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From  GEORGE  H,  COLBY, 

MODERN  AND  ANTIQUE  BOOKS,  ] 
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LANCASTER,    New   HAMPSHIRE. 


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ITS   THOUGHTS, 


IX 


SKETCHES,  FRAGMENTS,  AND  ESSAYS  ; 


BY  SARAH  WENTWORTH  MORTON, 

// 

OE   DORCHESTER,    MASS. 


"  I  stood  among  them,  but  not  of  them — 

« In  a  shroud  of  thoughts,  which  were  not  their  thoughts. 


BOSTON  : 

WELLS  AND  LILLY— COURT-STREET. 

1823. 


Contents. 


Thought  Page 

7  Approbation,  Self  -                                                  4 

33\Affliction,  Severe  -     19 

75  Agreeableness  -                                                 46 

79  Accusation            -  -             -             -             -     47 

86  Advice  51 

87  Advice     -  -                                        -52 

88  Advice  -          ib. 
106  Attraction  -                          -     67 
109  Adversity        -  69 

112  Avarice    -  -     71 

117  Anger,  Indulged  -                                      91 

118  Anger,  Furious    -  -    ib, 

B 

9  Busy  Bodies  -                                                  5 

38  Beneficent  -                                      -    23 

39  Beneficence,  Rewards  of        -  -                       ib. 
61  Beauty  and  Youth  -                         -    39 

108  Beauty  and  Love  -                                    69 

113  Benefits  not  Lost  -            -            -            -    72 


11  Conscience  -  *  6 

12  Conscience     -  ib. 
22  Creditor  and  Debtor        -            *           -            -    11 


IV  CONTENTS. 

Thought  Page 

24  Credulity  15 

58  Calumny  .     35 

59  Calumny  .             .           ib. 

60  Calumny                            -  -            -             -    ib. 

76  Cunning  -             -           46 

77  Cunning  -  -     ib. 

80  Civility  -           47 

81  Civility    -  -     48 

82  Civility  -            -          ib. 
100  Complaining  63 

D 

1  Disappointment  -  -       1 

4  Deceit            -  -                          3 

22  Debtor  and  Creditor  -     1 1 

55  Detraction      -  36 

57  Defamation  -             -             -     37 

65  Debts  .                        41 

66  Decision  -             -     42 
89  Dislike  -             -           53 
94  Disdain  and  Detest  -            -             -     57 
98  Displeasing    -  59 

114  Duplicity  -            -     95 

E 

34  Enemies  and  Friends  22 

37  Enemies  -             -    23 

44  Extremes,  or  Hope  and  Despair  -           26 

46  Enthusiasm                         -  -             .             -     28 

47  Enthusiasm     -                          -  -             -           29 

68  Envy  -             .             -     42 

69  Envy                                          -  .             -           43 

70  Envy-      -  .    ib. 

71  Envy  _           44 

72  Envy-      -  -            -    ib. 

73  Evil  and  Good            ...  45 


CONTENTS. 

Thought 

83  Experience 

84  Experience     - 

93  Esteem  and  Respect 
99  Extraordinary  and  Ordinary   - 
115  Expectation 


26  Flattery 
30  Fortune 

34  Friends  and  Enemies 

35  Friendship 

36  Friends 

64  Friendship  and  Fidelity  or  Policy  and  Prudence  - 
111  Fault  Finding 
118  Furious  Anger 

G 

2  Good  and  111  Luck 

40  Gratitude,  True  -       24 

73  Good  and  Evil  45 

96  Gratitude  and  Generosity  -                                 -       68 

H 

103  Happiness  -       65 

104  Happiness  and  Pleasure  ib. 
116  Hyperbole                                                              -       88 

I 

13  Idleness  and  Industry  -  7 

14  Idleness  -                 -                 -       ib. 
19  Injustice       -  -                 -               10 
23  Imprudence  -                 -       15 
25  Imputation                    -  -               16 

102  Interesting  and  Interest       -  -  64 

118  Indulged  Anger  -  -  -  91 


CONTENTS. 


Page 
Thought 

18  Judgment  and  Opinion 
101  Jesting 


6  Knowledge,  Self 
60  Kindness 

L 

108  Love  and  Beauty 

M 

20  Misanthropy 
31  Misfortune 

41  Mercy 

42  Mercy 

67  Moderation 

74  Malediction 

85  Mockery  and  Malice    - 

95  Meanness  and  Repulsion     - 

N 
3  Nicety 

O 

18  Opinion  and  Judgment 

45  Opinions 

78  Ourselves 

99  Ordinary  and  Extraordinary 


10  Plain  Speaker 


CONTENTS.  Til 

Thought  Pag« 

15  Prudence,  Worldly  -                                         7 

16  Prudence,  Selfish  8 

17  Proper  Prudence 

27  Prevarication  17 

28  Perfection  -       18 

29  Pretension   -                -  ib. 
32  Prosperity  -       19 
64  Policy  and  Prudence  or  Friendship  and  Fidelity       40 

91  Patience  -       54 

92  Patience  55 
104  Pleasure  and  Happiness  -                                       65 

Q 

90  Quarrels  -      53 
R 

39  Rewards  of  Beneficence  •              23 

93  Respect  and  Esteem  -      56 
95  Repulsion  and  Meanness  57 

110  Religious  Trust  -  -      69 

115  Reserve,  Silent           ...  84 


6  Self-Knowledge  4 

7  Self-Approbation  -                -                -              ib. 

8  Self-Sufficiency   -  -      ib. 
10  Speakers,  Plain  ...                5 
16  Selfish  Prudence  -                -         8 
21  Self-Love  and  Social    -  10 
33  Severe  Affliction  -                -                -       19 
49  Suspicion  -  .3! 

51  Success                -  -                -                       33 

52  Success      -                ...  34 
56  Slander                -  .                -                 -37 

115  Silent  Reserve  84 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 


Thought  Page 

40  True  Gratitude  -  24 

53  Temperament  35 

54  Temperament     -                                                    -      ib. 
61  Tomorrow  and  Yesterday  39 

105  Tranquillity  66 

110  Trust  Religious  69 

121  Truth  and  Trust  95 

u 

114  Utility  73- 


5  Vanity  4 

43  Virtue  and  Vice  25 

W 

15  Worldly  Prudence  -                -                         7 

48  Wisdom       -  29 

62  Wit  and  its  Combinations  -                 -                        39 

97  Words  to  the  Wise  58 

107  Women                -  -      68 


61  Yesterday  and  Tomorrow  39 

63  Youth  and  Beauty  -  -      40 


INTENTS- 


PJIRT  II. 


The  World  and  its  Ways 
The  Social  World 
The  Selfish  World 
The  Trifling  World 
The  Vain  World     - 
The  World  at  Large       - 


PARADOXES. 


Paradox 

1  Necessity 

2  Erring  Mortals 

3  Love  and  Glory 

4  Zeal 

5  Quiet  - 

6  Love  of  Country 


ESSAYS. 


Essay 


1  Adversity 

2  Prosperity 

3  The  Passions      - 

4  Children      - 

5  Pleased  and  Pleasing 

6  Rights  and  Wrongs 

7  What  is  true  Principle  ? 

8  Mutability 

9  Piety,  Filial  and  faithful      - 

10  Of  Youthful  Ingenuousness  and  Obduracy 


Page 
111 
115 
116 
118 
123 
129 


97 

98 

99 

100 

101 

102 


143 
145 
147 
151 
153 
155 
160 
164 
166 
168 


X  CONTENTS. 

Essay  Page 

11  Politeness                                             ^  -     169 

12  Time  and  Truth  173 

13  Wisdom  and  Wickedness     -  -     174 

14  Woman  -             177 

15  Marriage  -     179 

16  Love  and  Likeness       -  184 

17  Physiognomy       -                 -  -186 

18  On  the  Union  of  Opposite  Propensities  -             190 

19  Beauty  and  Eloquence  -     192 

20  Age  195 

21  Town  and  Country  196 

22  Servants       -  199 

23  In  what  does  Colloquial  Eloquence  consist  ?        -     203 

24  Beauty  and  Bravery     -  212 

25  The  Sexes  -    219 

26  Prince  Eugene  of  Savoy  221 

27  Christianity  -    222 

28  Polemick  Controversy  223 

29  Lessons  of  Life    -  -     224 

30  This  Mortal  shall  put  on  Immortality  22ft 

POETRY. 

Rustic  Lines  on  returning  to  the  beloved  Hamlet  at  Dor- 
chester ...     xix 

Ode  to  Mercy  12 

Poverty  -       20 

Souvenir                  •>  25 

To  George  Henry  Ap thorp,  Esq.  -  -       27 
To  the  Mansion  of  my  Ancestors,  on  seeing  it  occupied 

as  a  Banking  Establishment  30 

To  the  Breath  of  Kindness  -       32 

Lines  to  a  celebrated  historical  Painter  49 

Prayer  to  Patience  -       55 

Character  from  Life  59 

|\!audla  -       61 

Lines  to  John  C.  Warren,  M.B,              -  6S 


CONTENTS.  XI 

Page 

Stanzas  to  Charlotte  Morton,  Bonne  et  Belle  -  -  67 
Stanzas  to  Disappointment  -  -  70 
To  Mr.  Stuart  -  74 
Inscription  -  76 
Song— written  at  the  Woodlands,  the  Seat  of  William  Ha- 
milton, Esq.  on  the  Schuylkill  -  77 
Inscription  for  a  Sarcophagus,  upon  a  little  Island,  be- 
longing to  the  Proprietor  of  the  Woodlands  -  78 
Inscription  Second,  for  a  Rustic  Seat  on  the  same  Island  78 
Philadelphia,  an  Elegy  -  79 
Stanzas  to  the  Honorable  Robert  Listen  -  -  83 
Batavia,  an  Elegy  -  -  84 
Elegy  to  the  Memory  of  Maria  Antoinette  -  -  85 
Song  of  the  Runic  Bard  -  89 
Ode  to  the  Element  of  Fire  -  93 
Ode  to  Time  -  -  105 
Ode  to  Time  -  -  107 
Disinterestedness,  a  Fable,  imitated  from  the  French 

Prose                                                               -  117 

Lines  found  in  a  Lady's  Glove        -                -                -  119 

Response  to  the  same  120 
To  Lewis  Hervey,  Esq.  Secretary  of  the  Presidency  at 

Washington  City                           -                -  121 

Injunction  to  D.  W.  L.  -                                 -                -  123 

CHARACTERISTIC   SONGS. 

Song  1st — Successful  Lover  -  -  125 
Song  2d—  Dejected  Wife  -  126 
To  a  Beautiful  Infant  -  127 
To  a  Lady  Dancing  -  »  -  -  127 
Impromptu  -  .  128 
Impromptu  2d — Upon  hearing  an  elevated  Individual  ac- 
cused of  Pride,  &c.  &c.  -  -  -  128 
Simple  Address  to  My  Home  -  -  133 
Lines  to  the  Scion  of  the  Tulip  Tree,  shading  the  rural 

Home  of  my  Ancestors                         -                 -  134 

Epistle  to  Theophilus  Parsons               .-                -  135 


Xli  CONTENTS, 

Page 

To  the  Honorable  John  Jay  -  139 

To  His  Excellency  John  Jay  -     140 

Ode  for  Music  137 
Tributary  Lines 

Sonnet  to  Major  General  Lincoln  141 

Sonnet  to  the  Midnight  Moon  -     141 

Sonnet  to  Adversity                 *  144 

Stanzas  to  Aaron  Burr  -  -  150 
Lines  to  Mrs.  Montgomery 

Stanzas  to  the  Orator  of  the  Century  1 76 
Stanzas  to  a  recently  united  Husband 
Conciliation 

Inscription  185 

Stanzas  to  the  retired  Patriot  John  Adams     -  -     194 

Stanzas  -  198 

The  African  Chief  -    201 

Characteristic  Portrait  210 

Lines  to  Gilbert  Stuart,  Esq.  -     213 

Prophecy  214 

Naval  Song    -  215 

Dirge     -  216 

Ode  Inscribed  to  Major  General  Brown  -  217 
Song  for  the  Public  Celebration  of  the  National  Peace  218 

The  Star-Gazer  219 

Mortal  and  Immortal  232 
The  Sabbath  at  a  distance  from  my  Home  and  my  Church  234 
To  a  beloved  and  revered  Minister  of  the  Christian 

Church  235 

Hymn,  Re-animation  237 

Dedication  Hymn  -     238 

Hymn,  Sorrow  and  Supplication  239 

Hymn,  Praise  and  Prayer  to  God  -  -    240 

Hymn,  Glory  to  God  241 

Christmas  Sacramental  Hymn  -     242 

Second  Sacramental  Hymn  -  243 
Stanzas  to  a  young  Priest  of  the  Roman  Catholic 

Church                -                -  -                -    244 


CONTENTS.  Xlll 

ELEGIAC    LINES. 

Page 

Monody  to  the  Young  Heroes  who  fought  and  fell 
under  General  St.  Clair,  at  the  Miami  of  the 
Lakes  249 
Epitaph  on  Dr.  Andre  Carente  -  -  351 
To  the  Memory  of  Mrs,  A.  Jones  252 
To  the  Memory  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Bowdoin  -  -  253 
To  the  Memory  of  Julia.  Aged  14  years  255 
Memento  for  my  Infant  -  -  255 
Monody  to  the  Memory  of  General  Henry  Knox  -  256 
Recollections,  to  the  Memory  of  Theophilus  Parsons  -  258 
Stanzas,  upon  seeing  an  imperfect  Sketch  of  the  lament- 
ed Professor  McKean  -  -  259 
Lamentations  of  an  Unfortunate  Mother  -  260 
Stanzas,  occasioned  by  the  Question  of  a  Friend  -  263 
Stanzas,  on  a  Single  Drop  of  Rain  -  222 
Stanzas,  enclosing  the  Beautiful  Ringlets  of  my  Son  264 
Apostrophe  to  the  Memory  of  my  Beloved  Daughter  -  264 
Lines  to  those  who  have  said  you  are  tranquil  265 
Invocation  to  the  Shades  of  my  Ancestors,  Wentworth 

andApthorp                                         -                -  267 


RESPONSE  COURTEOUS 
TO    THE   QUESTION  IMPERIOUS, 


BY   WAY  OE 


tntrolmcttom 


what  are  your  thoughts  like  ?  or  what 
are  they  worth  f  exclaims  the  gentle  reader,  per- 
haps the  ungentle  critic,  possibly  the  unsparing  sa- 
tirist ! 

Their  worth  it  becomes  not  the  author  to  ap- 
preciate ;  but  for  their  likeness,  truly  they  resem- 
ble you,  and  your  friend,  and  his  acquaintance : 
many  of  them  have  possibly  travelled  over  the 
whole  fair  field  of  your  own  mind,  though  you 
sought  not  to  give  the  poor  things  utterance,  and 
still  less  had  you,  like  the  present  writer,  the  te- 
merity to  throw  them  en  dishabille  before  the  glar- 
ing eye  of  public  remark. 

She  indeed  doubted  ere  she  dared,  and  without 
the  usual  miserable  subterfuge  of  pressing  friends 
and  officious  advisers,  has,  at  last,  pulled  down  all 
responsibility  upon  her  own  luckless  head— 


XVI  INTRODUCTION. 

Yet  neither  deprecating  censure,  nor  supplicating 
applause,  but  simply  awaiting  the  award  of  that 
truth  which  can  alone  honour,  and  the  result  of 
that  enquiry,  which  may  possibly  justify. 

Should  the  question  arise,  "  Are  these  sketches 
indeed  personal  ?"  the  author  is  bound  to  reply,  that 
as  the  inferences  of  life,  are  only  to  be  deduced 
from  the  living,  every  observation  here  drawn,  has 
been  so  deduced,  and  is  thus  distributed — personal 
— without  personality — portraits  designed — but  not 
designing — reflections — by  which  no  individual  is 
positively  or  actually  reflected  upon. 

In  further  apology  for  an  offering  thus  avowed- 
ly made  up  of  Sketches  and  Fragments,  the  author 
properly  explains,  that  rustic  and  recluse,  the  trees 
of  the  hamlet  have  been  her  most  instructive  com- 
panions, and  while  that  earth  so  beautifully  sha- 
dowed by  these,  gave  strength,  activity,  and  em- 
ployment to  the  limbs,  and  to  the  understanding; 
she  laboured  in  her  vocation,  not  with  the  pre- 
tension of  a  theoretic,  and  yet  less  with  that  of  a 
scientific  Botanist,  but  simply  Avec  L?  amour  des 
Jardins,  arid  in  burying  care,  has  reaped  content- 
ment sufficient  to  console  the  heart  for  its  worldly 
losses,  and  leavings ;  until  the  love  of  rural  scenery 
became  a  real  passion — probably  the  only  passion, 
in  which  it  is  possible  to  indulge,  without  censure 
or  self-reproach. 

Thus  occupied — with  neither  leisure,  nor  dispo- 
sition, nor  capacity  to  write  a  Book,  there  has  aU 
ways  been  opportunity  to  pen  a  thought,  or  to  pen- 
cil a  recollection. 


xvii 


But  as  it  is  easier  to  design  than  to  discern,  and 
more  usual  to  attempt  every  thing,  than  to  succeed 
in  any  thing,  the  author  has  felt  and  known,  that 
the  imperfect  and  the  ineomplete — possibly  the 
features  of  ignorant  deformity,  are  to  be  placed 
before  critical  eyes,  habituated  to,  and  of  course, 
interested  only  in,  the  finished  and  the  beautiful. 

Yet  it  may  be  confessed,  the  present  is  merely 
an  experiment,  unadvised,  and  without  promise, 
consequently  not  liable  to  be  the  victim  of  dis- 
appointment. 

Truly  the  earth  is  already  encumbered  with  for- 
gotten books ;  but  as  there  is  always  room  for  the 
dying  and  the  dead,  the  present  attempt  cannot 
prove  an  irremediable  evil,  unless  made  such  by  the 
individual  herself,  through  weak  pretension  or  viler 
vanity ;  two  sentiments,  if  sentiments  they  are,  in 
which  she  does  not  dare  to  indulge. 

Finally,  and  most  feelingly,  the  author  presumes 
to  observe,  that  could  the  right  of  expectation,  or 
of  hope,  exist  for  her,  in  any  thing,  that  right 
would  rest  on  the  wish  of  being  morally  useful,  in 
the  desire  of  meeting  merited  approbation. 

S.  W.  M. 

Dorchester,  1822. 


RUSTIC  LINES, 

RETURNING  TO  THE  BELOVED  HAMLET  OF  DORCHESTER; 


HOME  OF  MY  HEART  !  thy  tranquil  scene 
Of  plains — in  early  herbage  green ; 
Thy  near  hills  bordering  bold  and  wild, 
The  temper  of  thy  breezes  mild — 
Thine  ocean  blue  as  beauty's  eye, 
And  calm  as  clouds  bright  hovering  nigh, 
Ere  twilight  breathes  her  parting  sigh. 

OR — the  brisk  .gale,  when  mid-day  clear 
Wakes  the  first  floweret  of  the  year, 
Bending  as  if  that  gale  to  greet. 
Like  captive  at  her  conqueror's  feet ! 
While  the  tossed  waves  exulting  seem 
To  love  the  sun's  approaching  beam. — • 
These  all  are  mine — ere  the  young  day 
Warms  in  the  bashful  blush  of  May. 

Thy  vernal  bird,  with  song  of  glee, 

Recalls  thy  fugitive  to  thee ; 

The  rustic  tones  of  truth  to  find, 

The  smile,  that  speaks  the  welcome  kind ; 

Or  the  quick  eye,  which  seems  to  say, 

The  steps  of  labour  must  not  stay ; 

To  all  I  come— for  all  are  dear 

To  her,  whose  whole  of  life  rests  here. 

Sweet  Hamlet !  since  no  wrong  invade/s 
The  quiet  of  thine  elm-row  shades, 


XX 

I  come — beneath  those  shades  to  rest, 
And  in  that  quiet  to  be  blest. 

Sweet  Hamlet!  to  thy  breast  of  bloom 
In  singleness  of  soul  I  come ! 
The  aching  of  my  cares  to  hide, 
And  dead  to  all  that  breathe  beside. 
For  in  thy  bounties  thou  art  kind, 
To  the  world-wearied  nerve  of  mind ; 
And  most  to  her  who  dares  not  own, 
How  much  she  feels  in  crowds  alone. 


THOUGHTS 


N°.  I. 


WHAT    IS    DISAPPOINTMENT  ? 

JJJVEN  that,  at  whose  approach  we  exclaim  and  la- 
ment and  suffer,  as  if  individually  the  most  afflicted 
among  mortals, — iand  yet,  how  few  are  there  of 
those  bitter  disappointments,  which  have  not  by  their 
termination,  or  in  their  effect,  become  benefits  ? 

Were  we  permitted  to  unfold  and  read  every  leaf 
in  the  book  of  fate  and  futurity,  how  often  should 
we  bless  our  DISAPPOINTMENTS — how  frequently  won- 
der at  the  fervent  solicitude  of  past  wishes! 

Marriage  prevented,  fortune  lost,  hope  frustrat- 
ed— those  disasters,  and  even  that  death,  at  whose 
knell  misery  came ;  these,  frowning  and  cruel  as 
they  seemed,  may  all,  or  some  of  them,  have  res- 
cued the  heart  from  deeper  sorrow — more  despe- 
rate distress. 

Who  is  there  among  the   mature  of   age,  and  of 
understanding,  but  can  recal  to  his   thoughts   some 
blessing,  the  offspring  of  disappointment — some  sor°. 
row,  the  child  of  gratified  inclination  ? 
1 


Unless  we  were  all-wise  and  all-good;  that  is, 
without  selfishness ;  judgment  in  our  own  cause  is 
worth  nothing;  discontent,  of  no  possible  avail. 

If  Fortitude  be  a  virtue,  Resignation  a  bless- 
ing, Patience  a  necessity,  DISAPPOINTMENT,  some- 
times a  trial,  and  always  a  lesson,  is  frequently  a 
boon,  which,  ugly  and  venomous,  bears  yet  a  pre- 
cious jewel  in  its  head  ! 

2. 

•  GOOD  LUCK  and  ILL  LUCK,  are  terms  relative,  or 
comparative  ;  the  one  usually  uncertain,  the  other 
seldom  irretrievable,  for  the  wheel  of  fortune  is  so  con- 
tinually in  mutation,  and  rotation,  that  every  spoke, 
and  felloe  and  nave,  has  its  turn  and  its  triumph,  its 
elevation  and  its  depression;  and  as  surely,  this  same 
wheel  of  fortune  will  neither  rust,  nor  rest  on  its 
axle,  to  enhance  the  hope,  or  to  deepen  the  des- 
pair of  any  breathing  creature.  Why  then  should 
any  one  exult  at  the  promise  or  in  the  possession 
of  that  GOOD  LUCK,  so  versatile  and  mortal?  or 
why  be  terrified  at  the  threat  of  those  frowning  dis- 
asters, which  have  not  even  an  earthly  durability? 

And  is  it  not  as  wicked  as  unwise,  while  adoring 
the  high  and  golden  idol  of  prosperity,  to  trample 
on  the  bruised  and  broken  victim  of  ILL  LUCK  and 
disappointment  ? 

3. 

^M 

Properly  speaking,  NICETY  is  refinement ;  a  prin- 
ciple that  accords  and  combines  with  superiority : 


in  the   fine  arts,  expressing  the  highest  finish  of  e 
quisite  workmanship ;  in  habits,   manners,  and   mor- 
als, implying  order,  delicacy,  and  purity. 

But  NICETY  is  a  luxury,  and,  like  other  luxuries, 
most  frequently  appertains  to  wealth,  station,  ele- 
gance, and  good  education  ;  for  neglected  children 
are  seen  to  delight  in  grovelling,  and  savages  are  sel- 
dom averse  to  the  degradation  of  filth. 

Usually,  the  more  polished  are  the  most  nice,  and 
yet  the  extreme  of  excessive  NICETY  may  degene- 
rate into  imperious  fastidiousness,  or  it  may  be  refin- 
ed into  listless  affectation,  when,  having  authority,  it 
becomes  fault-finding  idleness,  making  exaction,  and 
refusing  exertion. 

And  which  is  there  of  the  higher  principles,  or 
blessings,  when  extended  and  extorted  beyond  the 
proper  line  of  moral  demarkation,  that  does  not  as- 
sume a  different  character,  and  make  and  merit  for 
itself  a  less  righteous  appellative. 

Even  as  extremes  and  excess,  bringing  injury  to 
virtue,  are  the  sure  destroyers  of  happiness. 

4. 

We  are  seldom  able  to  impose  on  the  world,  for 
the  eyes  of  that  are  always  open  and  vigilant, 
and  the  ear  and  heart  prompt  to  discriminate,  and 
willing  to  detect :  hence  the  wiles  of  DECEIT  may 
be  compared  to  traps  laid  over  quicksands,  in  which 
the  contriver  is  often  the  first  to  be  fatally  caught. 

Let  him  therefore,  who  to  the  vileness  of  DECEIT, 
gives  the  imposing  characteristic  of  ingenuity  or 


J^* 

address,  ascribing  the  treasons  of  artifice  to  the  as- 
cendency of  genius,  learn,  that  the  wilful  deceiver, 
like  the  inventor  of  the  brazen  brute  of  Phalaris,  is 
more  frequently  the  victim  of  his  own  crafty  de- 
signs, than  the  builder  up  of  good  fortune,  or  the 
architect  of  more  honourable  fame. 

5. 

Excessive  VANITY  sometimes  impels  to  insolence, 
more  often,  in  self-complacency,  putting  on  the  bor- 
rowed garb  of  good  nature,  as  if  solicitous  for  pop- 
ular applause,  it  succeeds  in  having  its  principles 
mistaken,  and  its  person  the  object  of  commenda- 
tion or  of  apology. 

6. 

There  exists  in  every  thinking  mind,  a  certain 
conscious  KNOWLEDGE  OF  ITSELF,  which,  under  any  pos- 
sible occurrence,  constitutes  either  its  punishment, 
or  its  consolation. 

7. 

Hqw  often  is  self-love  mistaken  by  ourselves  for 
SELF-APPROBATION.  Adversity,  which  never  flatters, 
corrects  this  error,  and  bringing  humility  to  our  aid, 
enables  us  to  realize  many  virtues ;  meriting,  rather 
than  making,  the  approval  of  conscience. 

8. 

Is  it  not  true,  that  those  who  are  held  in  the  least 
possible  estimation  by  others,  have,  for  the  most 


part,  the  greatest  delight  in  themselves?  So  true, 
that  we  may  rest  assured,  excessive  SELF-COMMENDA- 
TION will  have  the  accompaniment  of  extraordinary 
demerit,  even  as  humility  is  the  guide  and  guardian 
of  every  virtue. 

9. 

Of  the  world,  and  its  little  ways,  there  may  be 
seen  industrious  minds,  in  BUSY  BODIES,  whose  sole 
occupation  is  that  of  transmitting  evil  reports  from 
individual  to  individual. 

While  mingling  drops  of  honey  with  the  poison 
thus  conveyed,  like  the  Charlatan,  they  sometimes 
pretend  to  cure  what  they  wound,  and  often  profess 
to  save,  even  while  they  kill. 

Such  are  of  the  little  world ;  trust  them  not,  for 
their  tongue  is  a  two-edged  sword,  and  the  deceit  of 
their  words,  like  the  fabled  song  of  the  Syren,  and 
the  tear  of  the  crocodile,  fore-runs  destruction. 

The  industry  of  such  minds  is  malice,  and  the  bu- 
siness mischief;  while  of  their  mercies,  the  tender- 
ness is  cruelty,  and  the  end,  moral  misery. 

10. 

Most  near  in  faith  and  affinity  to  the  Busy  body, 
is  the  PLAIN  SPEAKER — a  being  of  coarse  feelings, 
rude  utterance,  and  boastful  integrity.  Could  the 
scorn  of  a  sarcasm  kill,  these  would  have  slain  their 
thousands.  The  music  of  such  is  usually  upon  a 
sharp  note,  and  has  no  symphony. 


6 

In  their  vocabulary,  presumption  means  sincerity ; 
impertinence  is  honesty ;  careless  cutting  allusion, 
right,  and  righteousness.  And  yet  the  dark  den  of 
such  hearts  more  usually  encloses  the  tiger  than  the 
serpent  brood. 

11. 

CONSCIENCE,  simply  understanding  that  quick  sense 
of  committed  errors,  is  the  exclusive  attribute  of 
honest  minds,  fallible  but  not  wicked;  a  principle 
existing  for  the  correction  of  faults,  rather  than  for 
the  reformation  of  crimes. 

The  man  who  has  a  heart  to  perpetrate  atroci- 
ties, will  usually  be  found  with  a  CONSCIENCE  harden- 
ed, or  abandoned  in  braving  the  consequences. 

12. 

How  many  words  have  been  lavished  and  wasted 
on  the  arbitrary  and  inevitable  power  of  CONSCIENCE  ! 
How  few  thoughts  expended  upon  the  thousand 
ways  of  averting  its  reproaches,  and  of  discarding 
its  mandates! 

Vanity  counteracts  it  by  boasting,  or  subverts  by 
pretences.  Pride  overcomes  it  with  authority,  or  re- 
pels in  defiance.  Mistake  calls  to  his  aid  the  poor 
plea  of  necessity ;  and  malice,  cold  deliberating  mal- 
ice, flings  off  the  merited  blame,  and  casts  away  the 
committed  evil  on  another. 

While  good  sense,  better  principle,  and  true  reli- 
gion, detecting  the  real  aggressor,  only  supplicate 


mercy  for  our  very  selves,  as  frail  mortals,  or  as  mis- 
erable sinners. 

13. 

IDLENESS  is,  in  cause  and  effect,  mental  and  moral 
degradation. 

INDUSTRY  without  utility  to  others,  may  be  termed 
the  most  pernicious  sort  of  IDLENESS  ;  for  thieves  are 
usually  so  industrious,  that  with  less  labour  they 
might  obtain  an  honest  subsistence. 

Also,  the  vain,  the  mischievous,  the  irascible,  and 
the  selfish,  are,  like  the  great  tormentor,  seldom  at 
rest. 

Useful  INDUSTRY  is  cheerful,  kind,  active,  vigilant 
and  regardful,  blessed  and  blessing — the  tree  that  it 
plants,  will  grow,  and  bloom,  and  ripen ;  bringing  forth 
fruits  in  season,  for  the  beneficent  hand  and  the  feel- 
ing heart  of  the  patient  and  attentive  cultivator. 

14. 

IDLENESS,  scorning  utility,  and  coveting  enjoyment, 
finds  weariness,  awakens  discord,  and  invites  enmity ; 
met  by  punishment  if  not  followed  by  repentance. 

15. 

What  is  generally  termed  prudence,  is  seldom  oth- 
er than  a  cowardly  discretion  or  a  vile  selfishness. 
The  WORLDLY  PRUDENT  avoids  the  unhappy;  and 
is  sometimes  seen  to  tread  upon  the  fallen,  who.  ho 
expected,  would  rise  no  more. 


16. 

When,  by  the  presence  of  one,  whom  we  are  will- 
ing to  believe  our  friend,  the  heart  is  warmed  and 
opened  to  unfold  its  anxieties,  or  to  unburden  its  sor- 
rows— 

When  we  look  for  reciprocation,  expect  sympa- 
thy, and  hope  for  kind  unreserved  counsel ;  how 
cold  does  the  hand  of  SELFISH  PRUDENCE  strike  to 
the  soul,  with  a  look  between  Cunning  and  distrust. 
A  silence  unmoved,  and  unparticipating,  a  discretion 
which  seems  to  say,  I  oppose  my  wisdom  to  your 
folly — my  safety  to  your  generosity — my  foresight 
to  your  guardiess  confidence. 

17. 

It  is  PROPER  PRUDENCE  to  regulate  OURSELVES,  by 
restraining  the  disposition  to  excess  of  every  kind,  in 
moral  feelings,  as  in  personal  conduct. 

It  is  also  PROPER  PRUDENCE  to  avoid  injuring  an- 
other, in  Avord,  or  by  deed — such  forbefarance  being 
a  species  of  self  preservation;  since  every  human 
being  is,  like  ourselves,  armed  by  nature  with  some 
shield  of  defence,  or  some  weapon  of  offence,  which 
will  surely  be  turned  and  returned  upon  the  assailant. 

It  is  PROPER  PRUDENCE,  when  happy  in  the  pres- 
ent, not  to  be  unmindful  of  the  future  nor  forgetful 
of  the  past ;  neither  rapacious  of  vain  pleasure,  nor 
disdainful  of  true  enjoyment ;  to  reflect,  and  resolve 
as  to  the  best  method  of  living  every  day  of  our 
lives,  fixing  our  election  either  upon  the  high  zest 


of  worldly  pleasure,  and  its  alternations  of  amuse^ 
ment,  or  upon  the  more  truly  Epicurean  principles 
of  virtue,  mental  delight,  and  rural  retirement. 

It  is  equally  prudent,  as  much  as  in  us  lies,  to  pre- 
serve the  health  of  the  body  and  the  mind,  as  un- 
der disease  to  submit  to  the  kindest  and  wisest  phy- 
sician, for  the  cure  of  either,  or  of  both ;  also,  with 
the  blessing  of  a  sound  mind  in  a  sane  body,  to 
have  no  imaginary  wants,  but  to  pass  honestly,  and 
as  far  as  is  possible,  happily,  through  the  safe  path  of 
propriety,  guarded  and  guided  by  that  PROPER  PRU- 
DENCE which  is  not  selfish,  nor  worldly,  but  in  esti- 
mating others,  still  respecting  ourselves. 

18. 

HASTY  OPINION  differs  from  MATURED  JUDGMENT, 
as  the  passionate  eloquence  of  the  advocate  differs 
from  the  serene  wisdom  of  the  judge.  The  one  in 
delighting,  may  impose  and  mislead,  the  other,  even 
in  disappointing,  will  convince  and  instruct. 

MATURE  JUDGMENT  may  be  said  to  display  the 
straight  line  of  the  arrow,  without  the  arrow's  im- 
petuosity. HASTY  OPINION,  like  the  torrent  in  rush- 
ing onward,  frequently  turns  aside  bewildered,  and 
lost  through  intricacies.  MATURE  JUDGMENT  is  cool, 
and  like  truth,  immutable.  HASTY  OPINION,  warm, 
and  fluctuating,  though  it  fasten,  like  the  vulture 
upon  his  prey,  loses  its  hold,  and  sinks  down  into 
uncertainty. 

Then,  were  it  not  better,  maturely  to  pass  judg- 
ment on  our  own  individual  errors,  than  to  form  and 


10 

force  hasty  opinions  derogating  from  the  merits  of 
another. 

19. 

Whence  is  it  that  a  man  is  seldom  able  to  relin- 
quish his  animosity  against  those  whom  he  has  injur- 
ed ?  Is  not  this  factitious  resentment  a  kind  of  com- 
promise with  the  uneasiness  of  his  sensations  ? — An 
effort  to  persuade  his  INJUSTICE  that  the  victim  is  the 
aggressor  ? 

20. 

No  man  becomes  entirely  a  MISANTHROPE,  until  he 
has  merited  ignominy.  Even  as  no  vicious  char- 
acter, resting  on  human  depravity,  imagines  any 
one  living  to  be  more  intentionally  virtuous  than 
himself;  hence  look  for  distrust  and  expect  cen- 
sure, exactly  apportioned  to  the  criminality  of  your 
accuser. 

21. 

What  a  credulous  ear  and  willing  investigation  do 
we  lend  to  every  passing  report,  which  bears  hard 
upon  the  conduct  of  another ! 

How  incredulous  and  indignant  of  all  that  tends 
to  disclose  mistakes  or  misconduct  of  our  own ! 

In  this,  SELF-LOVE  and  SOCIAL  are  surely  not  the 
same. 

Perhaps  it  is  morally  impossible  to  acquire  the 
graces  of  philanthropy,  and  the  virtues  of  hu- 
mility, without  some  portion  of  individual  suffering; 


11 

for  adversity,  drawing  aside  the  veil  of  SELF-LOVE, 
which  ever  hides  us  from  ourselves,  at  the  same 
time  casts  a  shadow  over  those  vertical  sun-beams 
of  fortune,  which  dazzle  and  distort,  when  we  see  or 
suspect  the  motives  of  another. 

Adversity,  in  the  correction  of  error,  thus  tem- 
pering extremes,  shows  the  world  its  value  and  its 
votaries  as  they  really  are,  and  our  own  heart  as  it 
truly  is. 

22. 

Is  it  not  true,  that  the  busy  world  of  mankind 
feel,  without  avowing  an  equal  abhorrence  of  those 
opposite  tormentors,  the  DEBTOR  and  the  CREDITOR. 
The  one  as  a  slave,  whom  it  is  willing  to  oppress, 
the  other  as  a  tyrant,  whom  it  dare  not  irritate,  and 
is  ashamed  to  accuse. 

If  the  vulgarly  imperious  dun,  with  a  lordly  de- 
mand of  restitution,  be  hateful  to  the  man  of  many 
wants  and  few  means,  in  no  less  degree  is  that  DEBT- 
OR, by  whose  penury  the  necessitous  CREDITOR  suf- 
ers ;  or  through  whose  negligence  he  is  degraded ; 
while  on  this  occasion,  contrary  to  most  others, 
the  oppressed  may  be  considered  the  aggressor,  as 
honest  industrious  misfortune  is  seldom  permitted  to 
remain  the  uncommiserated  and  unrelieved  victim 
of  any  persecution  whatever. 


12 


ODE  TO  MERCY. 


BLESS'D  POWER  !  first  attribute  of  heaven  ! 
Whose  melting  eye, 
And  accent  bland  ; 
Whose  gentle  sigh, 
And  open  hand, 

Were  to  the  best  beloved  of  mortals  given  ; — 
Whither,  ah  whither,  hast  thou  fled, 
On  what  soft  bosom  rests  thine  angel  head ; 
Or  to  what  distant  wilds  are  thy  mild  graces  driven? 

Thou  art  not  in  the  courtly  smile, 

Which  silken  Gratio  wears, 
Whose  softness  flatters  to  beguile, 
Whose  kindness  but  in  voice  is  known, 
Round  whose  dark  mind's  degraded  throne, 
Falsehood  her  doubly  forked  sling  with  serpent  venom  bears. 

Still  further  from  the  rough  disdain, 

Of  rich  Lorenzo's  pride  ; 
He  who  in  trifling  arts  excels — 
Critic  in  flies,  in  flowers,  in  shells ; 
Which  o'er  his  hollow  heart  preside  ; — 
And  shut  his  marble  breast  to  sorrow's  moving  strain. 

Nor  art  thou  with  the  vaunting  tongue, 
Which  in  misconduct's  tortured  ear, 
Proclaims  each  pity-giving  tear, 
Which  virtue's  sorrowing  heart  bestows, 
When  folly  leads  her  train  of  woes, 
And  scorpions  lash  the  voluntary  wrong. 
Oh  shade  of  HOWARD  !  still  to  thee, 


13 


Meek  offspring  of  humility,* 
The  living  muses  wake  their  grateful  strain — 
Howard,  to  sorrow  se-f*resignedj 
Whose  firm,  undaunted,  sleepless  mind, 
Embraced  the  extended  family  of  pain  ; 
For  that  to  heaven  he  raised  the  expiring  eye, 
With  that  he  deigned  to  live, — for  that  he  dared  to  die.f 

Does  the  hard  earth  no  living  spot  disclose, 
Where  pity's  weeping  floweret  blows, 
Pouring  her  balm  of  blessedness  around, 
Scenes  where  the  sick  in  heart,  and  lost  of  hope  are  found  ? 

PHILOS,§  to  thee  unwearied  mercy  kneels, 

Not  for  thy  rank,  nor  wealth,  thy  deeds  alone ! 

Deeds  which  the  powerful  heart  of  misery  feels, 
Deeds  of  thy  secret  soul  she  calls  her  own ; 

Deeds  at  whose  touch  the  prison'd  debtor  smiles, 
His  dim  eye  lighted  by  his  fervid  prayer ; 

The  blessing,  which  his  agony  beguiles, 
Is  poured  on  heaven  FOR  HIM  whose  great  reward  is  there. 

*  That  this  true  philanthropist  was  among  the  most  humble  and  self-accu- 
sing of  mankind,  is  evinced  in  his  letter,  written  in  positive  rejection  of  the 
statue,  that  had  been  ordered  for  the  purpose  of  commemorating  his  inestima- 
mable  services ;  in  which  letter,  disclaiming  all  merit,  he  deprecates  every 
tribute. 

t "  Self  Resigned:1 

HOWARD  was  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  thence  devoted  and  sacrificed  his  life 
to  the  children  of  suffering. 

^  "  With  that  he,  deigned  to  live,— for  that  he  dared  to  die" 
HQWARD  died  of  a  fever,  the  infection  of  which   was  communicated  by  a 
dying  individual,  who  requested  to  see  him,   and  in  complying   with   that  re- 
quest his  own  life  was  sacrificed. 

§  WILLIAM  PMILLIPS,  Lieutenant  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  at  once 
modest  and  munificent,  pre-eminent  among  the  first  in  every  deed  oi  u.eoy. 
This  true  Samaritan  some  time  since  released  all  the  debtors  under  close  con- 
finement within  the  walls  of  the  County  prison,  by  uaying  the  anoint  ot  de- 
jnands  brought  individually  against  them,  by  merciless  or  necessitous  cred- 
itors. 


14 

ANGEL  OF  EARTH  !  whose  steps  in  silence  move, 

While  scattered  bounty  through  their  pathway  blooms, 
More  grateful  are  the  breathings  of  thy  love, 

Than  all  the  generous  summer's  rich  perfumes, 
These  to  the  sense  luxurious  sweets  impart ; 
Those  come  like  incense  to  the  fainting  heart. 

MERCY  DIVINE  ! — though  grief  severe 
May  rest  her  fang  of  misery  /»ere, 
To  me  thy  tearful  smile  will  seem, 
Like  the  young  morning's  dewy  beam 
Cheering  the  gloom  with  promise  mild, 
A  foliage  mid  the  desert  wild,* 
A  bark  the  desperate  wretch  to  save, 
Who  struggles  with  the  stronger  wave ; 
A  light  like  that  the  apostle  knew, 
When  back  his  prison's  portals  flew, 
And  the  soft  touch  of  angels  lay 
On  chains,  that  touch  dissolved  away. 
A  blessing  sought,  and  sent  and  shed 
On  earth — when  earthly  hope  is  dead. 

BELOVED  OF  HEAVEN  !  thy  healing  aid  impart, 
To  charm  and  change  the  deeply  venomed  heart, 
Give  the  fix'd  bosom,  cold  as  hardest  steel, 
To  move,  to  warm,  to  soften,  and  to  feel. 
Rewarding  each  awaken'd  sense 
With  the  rich  blessing  of  thy  own  BENEVOLENCE. 

*  Wherever  the  thin  and  stunted  palm  trees  are   visible  amid  the  Arabian 
deserts,  the  blessing  of  a  spring  of  sweet  water  is  expected  and  obtained. 


15 


23. 

IMPRUDENCE  usually  belongs  to  good  hearted  peo- 
ple, with  little  reflection,  and  without  design  of  evil : 
Yet  how  tremendous  are  its  effects  upon  character ! 
How  fatal  the  result  to  human  happiness ! 

Amazement  treading  close  upon  those  effects, 
and  that  result,  brings  anguish  of  mind,  which, 
striking  the  barb  of  its  arrow  even  to  the  secret 
heart  of  the  offender,-  probably  compels  circum- 
spection— possibly  impels  restoration — certainly  in- 
duces amendment. 

At  last,  able  to  forgive  ourselves,  we  can  merit, 
and  may  meet  the  conciliation  of  the  sensible,  the 
worthy,  and  the  sedate. 

24. 

Thoughtless  CREDULITY,  like  heedless  imprudence, 
is  frequently  the  known  attribute  of  kind  hearts 
and  sensible  minds,  rather  confiding  than  doubting, 
with  more  of  feeling  than  of  firmness,  often  the 
victim,  never  the  betrayer. 

The  celebrated  and  amiable  Lavater  is  said  to 
have  been  the  most  kindly  credulous  of  mortals, 
neither  suspecting  the  sincerity,  nor  doubting  the 
honesty  of  individual  character ;  which  confirms  the 
sentiment,  that  this  frailty,  i£  it  be  one,  may  as  tru- 
ly be  the  attribute  of  great  minds,  as  of  guileless 
hearts. 

Well   meaning  CREDULITY  cannot  exist  with  the 
vicious ;  and  yet  such  CREDULITY  is  not  virtue ;  rath- 


16 

er  may  it  be  termed  the  weakness  and  wildness  of 
good  intention,  which  good  intention  should  restrain 
and  chastise,  lest  deviation  should  become  distor- 
tion, which  is  deformity,  moral  and  material. 

Thus  chastised  and  restrained,  CREDULITY  is  for- 
bearing, patient  and  compassionate,  resting  on  faith, 
cherished  by  hope,  and  above  all,  having  charily. 

While  the  unbeliever  of  the  moral,  like  him  of  the 
religious  world,  is  cold,  and  hard  of  character,  sus- 
picious, scornful  and  intolerant ;  disdaining  to  listen, 
and  desiring  to  proselyte,  he  is  sometimes  known  to 
force  upon  the  mature  strength  of  serious  conviction, 
the  thin  garb  of  thoughtless  CREDULITY. 

25. 

Though  mere  IMPUTATION  can  neither  blacken  the 
principles,  nor  harden  the  heart  of  the  innocent,  yet 
it  is  not  unfrequently  found  so  to  harrow  up  his  soul, 
and  bewilder  his  understanding,  that  he  seems  to  for- 
get how  much  more  appalling  it  were,  for  the  proud 
and  the  feeling  to  merit  and  escape  ignominy,  than 
by  undesigning  imprudence,  to  awaken  the  wrong  of 
suspicion,  and  call  down  the  violence  of  calumny, 
pervertingly  and  perversely  iterating, 

"  Even  out  of  thine  own  mouth  do  I  condemn  thee." 

And  yet  whoever  presumes  to  purchase  exemp- 
tion by  the  simple  consciousness  of  innocency,  will 
surely  feel  and  find,  that  the  appearance  of  evil,  is, 
in  foolishness  and  sin,  next  to  the  perpetration  of 
evil 


17 

Surmise,  report  and  opinion,  are  reputation,  and 
who  shall  dare  to  saj,  I  disdain  reputation  ?  he  will 
too  soon,  and  too  surely,  be  in  danger  of  discarding 
morals,  and  of  defying  society ;  the  zeal  of  IMPUTA- 
TION, the  fanaticism  of  envy,  and  the  cruel  bigotry  of 
calumny,  notwithstanding. 

26. 

FLATTERY  in  its  exaggerations,  seemingly  has  so 
much  of  jeering  equivocation,  and  so  little  of  deli- 
cate praise,  so  few  touches  of  character,  and  such 
broad  lines  of  caricatura,  that,  far  from  honouring  its 
object,  the  usual  effect  is  to  awaken  ridicule,  and  to 
invite  contempt. 

And  yet,  under  the  moral  certainty  of  such  re- 
sult, there  are  who  greedily  taste  and  willingly 
swallow  and  readily  digest  the  gross  food,  thus  pre- 
pared and  appropriated  to  the  craving  appetite  of 
insatiable  vanity. 

27, 

The  falsehood  of  habitual  PREVARICATION  is  as 
mean  as  immoral,  and  as  unavailing  as  mean  ;  for  the 
man  detected  in  wilful  falsehood,  is  looked  after 
with  eyes  of  such  question  and  incredulity,  that  de- 
tection seems  inevitable,  and  truth  herself  doubtful 
or  unlovely  from  the  pollution  of  his  lips. 

And  yet   there    are   possible    occasions  in  which 

PREVARICATION  is  pardonable,  and    untruth  a  virtue ; 

that  is,  in  rescuing  the  life,    the   reputation,    or  the 

property    of   another   from  the  purposed  stabs,  or 

3 


18 

the  proposed  depredation  of  a  determined  assassin. 
But  these  occasions  may  be  said  to  act  not  as  rules 
of  life  but  of  individual  necessity ;  alternatives  of 
rare  occurrence  ;  a  great  evil  to  be  preferred  to  a 
yet  greater  evil ;  controlling,  not  depraving  the  will 
nor  the  person;  who  may  acquiesce,  even  as  he 
would  in  all  innocency  submit  to  the  scaffold,  did 
patriotism  or  religion  call  for  the  sacrifice. 

28. 

If  PERFECTION  concentrate  in  no  one  mortal,  it 
will  be  admitted  that  particularly  and  partially,  it  is 
sometimes  seemingly  visible  in  the  personal  beauty, 
or  temper  or  goodness,  or  intellectual  capacities,  of 
the  fairest  and  the  best. 

Who  is  there  among  the  fine  and  the  feeling,  that 
has  not  in  the  morning  of  life  been  led  by  grate- 
ful affection  to  the  almost  religious  belief? — recogni- 
zing arid  rejoicing  at  the  possible  discovery  of  angel- 
ic PERFECTION  ?  assimilating  the  human  to  the  divine 
nature. 

29. 

We  often  deceive  ourselves,  and  sometimes  im- 
pose on  the  credulity  of  those  by  whom  we  happen 
to  be  valued,  or  are  really  beloved,  but  the  judg- 
ment seat  of  society  accredits  nothing  fine  nor  fa- 
vourable upon  the  ex-parte  PRETENSION  of  the  con- 
cerned. 

As  PRETENSION  is  not  authority,  and  neither  do  words 
nor  actions  avail,  unless  supported  by  the  evidence 


19 

of  external  senses,  better,  brighter,  and  less  partially 

directed  than  our  own. 

• 

30. 

To  wonder  at  the  fickleness  of  FORTUNE,  or  un- 
der her  frown,  to  feel  hurt  at  the  mere  coolness  of 
acquaintance,  were  foolishness  ;  since  who  is  aston- 
ished at  the  storm  which  suddenly  shadows  a  fair 
day,  when  it  scatters  the  insects  and  reptiles  that 
were  wont  to  bask  in  the  sunshine ! 

31. 

MISFORTUNE  is  the  great  teacher,  whom  we  can- 
not know,  without  realizing  some  certain  moral  ad- 
vantage. 

It  is  the  test  of  friendship,  and  the  key-stone  of 
the  virtues,  whose  fair  edifice  is  too  often  undermin- 
ed or  overturned  by  the  revels  of  prosperity. 

32. 

PROSPERITY  may  possibly,  by  its  kindness,  improve 
the  temper,  but  was  never  known  to  mend  the 
heart;  hence,  those  who  remain  unspoiled  by  its 
allurements,  must,  beyond  all  others,  be  radically  ex- 
cellent. 

33. 

The  school  of  AFFLICTION,  even  in  its  utmost  SE- 
VERITY, is  found  to  inculcate  the  best  principles  of 
gentleness  and  virtue  ;  thence  the  truly  sorrowful, 
those  who  are  heart-struck,  are  usually  the  most  lib- 


20 


cral,  benignant  and  forgiving.  As  in  feeling  our  own 
miseries,  we  learn  not  merely  to  tolerate,  but  to  com- 
passionate those  of  others. 


LINES  TO  POVERTY. 


OH  POVERTY  !  hard  featured  dame, 
Whence  grow  the  terrors  of  thy  name  ? 
'Tis  said  that  from  thy  serious  eye, 
The  laughing  train  of  pleasures  fly. 
That  deep  w'thin  thy  mansion  rude, 
Lurks  thehlack  fiend,  ingratitude. 
That  toil,  and  want,  and  shame  are  known 
To  make  thy  heartless  hours  their  own, 
'Till  guilt,  his  phrenzied  eye  on  fire, 
Bids  the  last  famished  hope  expire. 
Thus  speaks  the  world, — to  mammon  true, 
While  wrongs  thy  pleading  worth  pursue  j 
To  me — and  /  have  seen  thee  near, 
Though  harsh  thy  withering  look  appear; 
Though  stern  the  teachers  of  the  poor, 
And  hard  the  lesson,  to  endure., 
Yet  many  a  virtue  born  of  thee, 
Lives  sundered  from  prosperity. 
Religion,  that  on  heaven  relies, 
The  moral  of  thy  mind  supplies. 
— Pity,  with  plaintive  accent,  kind, 
And  patience,  to  her  fate  resigned  \ 
Are  seen  thy  lowly  cot  to  share, 
While  temperance  dwells  an  inmate  there. 
Love  joined  by  truth — no  rival's  eye 
Wakes  to  the  wish  of  poverty, 
But  all  the  blest  affections  twine 


21 


Round  many  a  rustic  home  of  thine. 
Close  circling  with  the  nuptial  tie, 
Joys,  which  a  monarch  could  not  buy, 
Though  booiiless,  and  to  praise  unknown, 
Oft  is  the  lustre'd  life  thy  own : 
To  thee,  the  priests  of  GOD  belong, 
And  thine  the  Poet's  deathless  song: 
Thee,  toiling  science  lives  to  claim, 
Thou  lead'st  his  thorny  steps  to  fame. 
Creative  genius  feels  thy  power, 
Coeval  with  his  natal  hour ; 
On  him  the  rays  of  glory  shine 
Too  late — his  parting  breath  is  thine. 

Let  me  thy  simple  glances  meet, 
Near  the  green  hamlet's  calm  retreat ; 
Not  where  the  city,  throng1  d  with  sin, 
Bids  all  the  monster  crimes  begin. 
Thence  will  thy  timid  virtues  fly, 
Scared  by  seduction's  serpent  eye. 
Their  fate,  each  murdered  hope  to  see, 
While  every  suffering  lives  to  thee. 

Not  that  along  the  wintry  shore, 

The  fisher  plies  the  wearying  oar, 

Not  that  amid  the  sultry  plain, 

The  peasant  piles  the  laboured  grain, 

Wilt  thou  with  frowning  brow  appear, 

To  wring  the  grief-extorted  tear. 

But  when  to  wrongs  thy  sufferings  lead, 

While  shame,  and  false  reproach  succeed ; 

When  genius,  doomed  with  thee  to  mourn, 

Sees  his  unsheltered  laurels  torn. 

While  ignorant  malice,  rushing  by, 

Quick  glances  with  insidious  eye. 

When  all  thy  cultured  virtues  move, 

Nor  sense  to  feel,  nor  heart  to  love ; 

While  treachery  under  friendship's  guise, 


22 

•     Bids  the  pernicious  rumour  rise. 
Still  aiming  with  envenomed  dart, 
To  reach  the  life-pulse  of  thy  heart- 
Then  POVERTY,  hard  featured  dame, 
We  feel  the  miseries  of  thy  claim, 
Would  from  thy  close  embraces  fly, 
Or  in  their  palsying  pressure  die. 

34. 

Our  most  embittered  ENEMIES  would  for  the  most 
part  be  converted  into  real  FRIENDS,  were  we  by  any 
means  to  obtain  the  power  of  conferring  either 
pleasure  or  promotion  personally  upon  them. 

It  is  equally  true  that  not  more  than  one  FRIEND 
in  a  thousand  will  be  found  to  outbrave  the  hard 
storm  of  our  adversity. 

35. 

Generally  speaking,  we  retain  the  affections  of  our 
friends,  just  so  long  as  we  have  no  occasion  for  their 
actual  services.  The  moment  a  tax  is  laid,  revolt 
ensues,  constraint  appears,  FRIENDSHIP  declines,  and 
even  the  feeble  gleam  of  cold  good-will  becomes  ob- 
scured, if  not  wholly  extinguished. 

• 

36. 

In  possessing  capacity  of  any  kind,  let  us  rest  up- 
on that  and  upon  ourselves,  rather  than  upon  the 
promise  of  FRIENDS,  and  the  hope  of  friendship ; 
since  a  favour  solicited  is  an  obligation  incurred,  sub- 
verting the  essential  equality  of  friendship,  or  at 
least,  blending  its  kind  sentiment  with  the  evil  feel- 
ings of  debtor  and  creditor. 


23 

37. 

Who  is  mine  ENEMY  ? 

Not  he  who  to  the,  rudeness  of  contradiction 
adds  the  violence  of  accusation,  and  the  cruelty  of 
reproach;  since  rudeness,  violence  and  cruelty  do 
not  persuade,  are  without  influence,  and  make  no 
converts.  Of  such  outrage,  injury  is  not  born ;  but 
rather  of  him,  the  flatterer  of  my  foibles,  the  re- 
viler  of  my  virtues ; — for  who  is  there  among  edu- 
cated and  erring  mortals,  destitute  of  both  ? — The 
doubter  !  the  questioner,  the  sneering  apologist ! 

It  is  not  he  who  like  the  apostolic  Peter  could 
have  rashly  and  rudely  denied  his  Lord,  and  loved 
him ;  but  he  who  as  the  professing  Judas*  while  be- 
traying even  to  the  death,  follows  with  blandish- 
ments and  meets  with  caresses ;  insidiously  exclaim- 
ing "  All  Hail !  Lord  or  Master  /*" 

38. 

Perform  a  BENEFICENT  action,  and  let  it  be  actu- 
ated by  the  first  of  human  pleasures,  that  of  con- 
ferring benefits ;  but  never  expect  gratitude,  nor 
even  the  return  of  spontaneous  affection,  since  it  re- 
quires superiority  of  mind,  and  nobler  attributes  of 
heart  to  admit  or  endure  the  heavy  weight  of  obli- 
gation. 

39. 

How  often  is  it  found,  after  we  have  given  all 
that  we  could  in  benefaction,  yet  provided  that  all 
be  inadequate  to  the  wants  or  even  to  the  vain  wish- 


24 

es  of  the  necessitous ;  far  from  kindling  the  warmth 
of  gratitude,  or  reaping  the  harvest  of  kindness;  the 
gratuity  thus  limited  and  insufficient,  remains  as  if 
to  rise  up  in  judgment  against  us ;  with  discontent, 
vexation,  reproach  and  sarcasm — deep,  if  not  loud — 
leaving  to  the  simple  heart  of  the  poor  benefactor 
only  the  purity  of  intention,  the  pride  of  principle 
and  the  approbation  of  conscience,  with  the  best 
blessing — not  temporal  but  eternal — of  heaven  itself. 
Is  it  then  a  question,  what  are  the  REWARDS  or 
BENEFICENCE  ? 

40. 

To  those  who  have  in  any  way,  or  by  any  means, 
alleviated  our  miseries,  though  possibly  from  a  spir- 
it of  ostentation ;  yet  under  the  presumption  of  such 
possibility  should  we  hold  ourselves  grateful ;  even 
as  an  honest  heart  appreciates  the  deed  of  benevo- 
lence by  the  good  that  is  conferred,  while  a  base 
mind  is  busied  in  analysing;  motives,  as  if  to  obtain 
dispensation  from  the  whole  debt  of  TRUE  GRATI- 
TUDE. 

41. 

MERCY  is  before  sacrifice,  and  it  is  more  useful 
to  reclaim  than  to  destroy,  even  as  it  is  better  pa- 
tiently to  prune  and  cultivate  the  tree,  rather  than 
to  root  it  from  the  earth  when  it  appears  fruitless 
and  unflourishing. 

42. 
Nine  tenths  of  the  vices  of  this  world,  not  to  speak 


25 

of  its  crimes,  do  certainly  originate  more  through 
thoughtless  imbecility  of  character,  than  from  delibe- 
rate atrocity  of  intention  ;  and  if  not  immediately  suc- 
ceeded by  reformation,  are  eventually  followed  by  re- 
pentance ;  hence  the  persuasion  of  pity,  and  the  for- 
bearance of  MERCY  are  more  likely  to  be  efficacious, 
than  the  hardness  of  reproof  or  the  severity  of 
punishment. 

43. 

If  VIRTUE  be  not  always  its  own  reward,  yet  ad- 
mit this  infallible  axiom,  VICE  is  ever  its  own  aven- 
ger- 

SOUVENIR. 


During  the  endemial  ravages  of  the  spotted  malignant  fever  in 
the  state  of  Maine,  the  active  benevolence  of  one  man  was 
known  to  meliorate  the 'distress,  and  to  preserve  the  existence 
of  hundreds  of  human  victims. 

To  that  man,  the  compassionate  friend  and  beneficent  physician 
of  the  poor,  the  following  lines  were  inscribed  by 

ONE  OF  THE  GRATEFUL. 

For  him,  "  THE  MAN  OF  Ross" — your  boast  prolong, 
Who  love  the  Poet  and  the  Muses'  song. 
Lives  there,  whose  deeds  an  equal  homage  claim, 
Yet  shuns  the  tributary  breath  of  fame, 
To  pale  disease,  and  paler  misery  flies, 
His  dread  the  question  of  enquiring  eyes. 
He,  born  to  bless,  with  secret  step  draws  near 
Where  the  proud  sufferer  drops  the  silent  tear 
4 


26 

Where  hard  and  deep  the  frost  of  fortune  lay ; 
Pours  light  and  life,  like  heaven's  restoring  ray  : 
Or  where  the  murmuring  poor  by  wants  oppressed. 
Claim  the  large  bounty  of  his  ample  breast, 
Is  known  to  loiter — till  the  bursting  prayer, 
Tells  his  touched  soul  a  pitying  God  is  there ; 
That  prayer  the  rescued  innocent  shall  raise. 
With  eyes  that  speak  unutterable  praise. 

Do  hoards  of  wealth  this  bounteous  stream  supply  ? 
Ah  !  when  could  gold  the  richer  feelings  buy. 
See  the  vain  Midas,  grasping  mid  his  store, 
Wait  till  the  prosperous  gales  have  wafted  more. 
While  he  who  breathes  to  shelter  and  to  save, 
Repays  his  heaven  the  portioned  boon  it  gave. 
Lives  there — like  him,  by  Britain's  bard  defined, 
A  man  of  melting  heart  and  matchless  mind ; 
Who  flies  the  grateful  fame  that  would  pursue  ?* 
Thou,  VAUGHANJ  wilt  "  blush"  to  find  the  semblance  true. 

44. 

As  EXTREMES  are  frequently  known  to  meet,  and 
strike,  and  fasten  upon  each  other,  those  heavy  af- 
flictions which  breaking  down  the  spirit,  sink  the 
soul  in  despondency  or  resign  it  to  despair — those 
are  sometimes  overpowered  by  a  sudden  blaze  of 
success,  or  requited  by  a  restoring  arid  rewarding 
stream  of  cloudless  prosperity,  rendered  more  bright 
and  more  blessed  from  the  dim  misery  it  found ; 
even  as  the  darkest  moment  of  night  is  that  which 

*  "  Did  good  by  stealth,  and  BLUSHED  to  find  it  fame." 
t  Benjamin  Vaughan,  of  Hallowell  in  the  state  of  Maine,  whose  ample  for- 
tune is  expended  in  deeds  of  mercy ;  and  whose  medical  science  is    exerted 
for  the  preservation  of  those  whose  only  remuneration  can  be  by  blessings 
and  prayers  to  heaven,  where  his  best  treasure  is,  and  his  heart  also  ! 


27 

precedes  the  glorious  dawning  of  day  ;  and  the  last 
convulsing  agony  of  human  life,  is — for  the  merciful 
and  the  just — but  as  a  path-way  to  the  heaven  of 
happiness  and  remuneration. 

Thence  should  not  the  cruelty  of  fortune  blot  out 
earthly  HOPE,  nor  the  inflictions  of  mortal  sorrow, 
nor  the  malice  of  worldly  destiny,  wounding  and 
wasting  the  heart,  lead  and  leave  it  to  DESPAIR. 

TO 
GEORGE  HENRY  APTHORP. 


MY  BROTHER  !  at  youth's  vernal  hour. 
Thine  was  beauty's  transient  flower  j 
MY  BROTHER  !  in  life's  summer  day, 
Thine  is  of  mind,  the  enduring  ray ; 
From  blushing  morn,  to  noon's  decline, 
Of  soul  and  heart,  the  strength  is  thine, 
Soul  to  sustain,  and  heart  to  cheer 
The  pilgrim's  path  of  darkness  here. 

To  me  thy  deeds  of  kindness  seem 
Expressive  as  the  patriarch's  dream, 
When  to  his  lightly  slumbering  eyes, 
Angels  from  earth  were  seen  to  rise 
On  steps*  celestial — bright  and  fair, 
As  hope  had  brought  her  bounties  there, 
While  on  his  sense  the  vision  grew, 
The  golden  gate  of  heaven  he  knew  :t 

*  Steps,  rather  than  ladders,  according  to  the  original  Hebrew, 
t  And  Jacob  said,  Surely  this  is  the  gate  of  heaven. 

Holy  Scriptures. 


28 

Thus  to  the  mourner's  musing  eyes, 
A  passage  brightening  to  the  skies 
Is  seen  from  earth — an  angel's  care 
Unfolds  the  portal's  blessing  there. 

45. 

As  the  consciousness  of  a  man's  mind  usually  regu- 
lates his  relative  OPINION  on  every  question  of  con- 
duct, motives  and  virtues ;  the  truly  good  rather 
hopes,  trusts  and  vindicates,  while  the  really  wicked 
willingly  doubts,  disdains  and  vilifies.  The  heart  of 
the  one  pities,  pardons  and  accepts,  that  of  the  oth- 
er, like  the  iron  couch  of  the  ancient  Procrustes,  is 
found  to  mutilate  or  to  distort,  enlarging  or  reduc- 
ing to  the  cruel  dimensions  of  its  own  hard  sub- 
stance. 

46. 

ENTHUSIASM  is  that  fine  fervour  and  rich  glow  of 
delight,  which  belong  to  improved  taste  and  indulged 
imagination;  generous,  kind  and  warm  hearted,  it 
forms  and  follows  the  perception  of  the  painter,  the 
sensibility  of  the  poet,  and  the  soul  of  the  philan- 
thropist. 

ENTHUSIASM  lives  and  is  perfect  with  the  noble- 
minded  ;  properly  speaking,  it  is  not  of  the  fanatic 

nor  the  bigot,   and  still  less  is  it  of  the  merciless  un- 

o 

believer,  for  the  blood  of  these  is  cold  even  in  its  fu- 
ry, as  if  rushing  onward  to  destroy  what  they  could 
not  proselyte. 

And  yet  ENTHUSIASM  is  but  a  fine  feeling,  and  not 
a  sacred  sentiment ;  the  only  part  it  can  legitimate- 


29 

ly  hold  in  rational  Christianity,  is  that  of  calling  in 
the  aid  of  devotional  musick,  by  which  the  thoughts 
and  faculties  seem  to  rise  even  as  it  were  on  the  di- 
vine wings  of  melody,  from  earth  to  heaven. 

ENTHUSIASM  may  be  heated  into  passion,  or  it  may 
be  frozen  into  prejudice ;  when  no  longer  the  same 
good  genius  which  animates  and  inspires,  it  becomes 
an  exasperated  spirit  that  degrades  ;  a  spirit  who 
neither  thinks  nor  reads  nor  reasons,  but  rather  deals 
and  desolates,  whose  proper  name  is  Violence. 

ENTHUSIASM,  correct  and  corrected,  as  attached  to 
the  fine  arts  and  devoted  to  the  best  affections,  is 
blameless  and  beautiful ;  for  ENTHUSIASM  neither  de- 
fames nor  debases,  nor  deserts  ;  but  is  in  effect,  good 
will,  admiration  and  applause,  near  which  the  ve- 
hemence of  the  baser  passions  cannot  approach,  and 
to  which  the  selfishness  of  vanity,  and  the  sordid- 
ness  of  vice  do  not  belong. 

48. 

The  WISDOM  of  actions  is  better  than  the  WIS- 
DOM of  words,  for  in  the  moral,  as  in  the  vegetable 
kingdom,  one  may  plant  and  another  may  water,  but 
it  is  the  light  and  warmth  of  living  energy,  which 
like  the  brighter  ray  of  heaven,  can  alone  give  the 
increase. 


LINES 

TO   THE    MANSION    OP   MY   ANCESTORS,  ( 1 )    ON    SEEING    IT   OCCUPIED   AS 
A   BANKING    ESTABLISHMENT. 


MANSION  !  no  more  by  beauty  graced, 
Thee  have  the  spoiler's  hands  defaced. 
MANSION  of  yore  !  thy  stately  dome, 
Seem'd  of  a  polish'd  world  the  home. 
The  NOBLE  (2)  there  were  nobly  led, 
And  at  the  generous  banquet  fed ; 
While  the  Crusaders  shield  (3)  was  seen, 
To  tell  01  deeds  that  once  had  been. 

How  art  thou  changed  1  and  mammon's  store 
Proclaims  the  reign  of  soul  is  o'er ! 
The  feast,  the  dance,  the  song  of  glee, 
No  longer  of  thy  NAME  nor  thee. 
APTHORP  !  most  dear,  most  honoured  name, 
A  parent's  boast,  his  children's  claim, 
Thy  halls  to  taste  and  talents  known, 
Where  all  the  brilliant  bounties  shone  : 
Thy  sons  approved  in  arts  or  arms, 
Thy  daughters  of  transcendant  charms 
Are  gone — and  Plutus  builds  a  throne, 
Enriched  by  fortune's  gifts  alone. 
Even  where  the  curtaining  velvet  rose, 
Round  the  calm  midnight  of  repose  ; 
Where  my  proud  father's  (4)  infant  eyes, 
First  saw  the  beauteous  morning  rise, 
Proud,  with  a  Cambrian's  boast  to  claim 
The  warrior's  and  the  artist's  fame ; 
Proud,  in  his  matchless  form  to  trace 

(1)  See  the  end  of  the  volume. 


31 

The  impress  of  an  honoured  race, 
But  prouder  in  his  gifted  mind, 
The  genius  of  that  race  to  find. 

All,  all  are  lost— (5)  the  bright,  the  fair 

Are  gone — and  wealth  is  worshipped  there  . 

The  children's  children  live  to  see 

Nor  memory  of  thy  name  nor  thee, 

No  mansion  by  the  grandsire  trod, 

Nor  hill,  nor  vale,  nor  grassy  sod, 

Stay  with  the  race — their  only  claim 

The  riches  of  his  treasured  name : 

Not  one  of  all  survives  to  tell 

How  fond  h  s  glance  of  blessing  fell: 

Fame  only  1  ves  in  cold  decay ; 

For  time  has  borne  the  bloom  away. 

49. 

If  individuals  of  sedate  minds,  cold  hearts  and 
cautious  utterance,  usually  escape  persecution,  and 
are  without  enemies ;  yet,  be  it  asked  and  urged, 
have  these  either  friends,  adherents,  or  kindly  influ- 
ence ?  Do  they  reach  and  reap  the  spontaneous 
growth  of  abundant  affection?  Or  can  they  touch 
the  fine  chords  of  awakened  gratitude?  inspiring 
and  commanding  >he  music  of  voluntary  applause  ? 

If  open-hearted  inadvertency  have  its  pang  and  its 
reproof;  to  calculating  SUSPICION  no  pleasures  be- 
long :  solitary  security  is  not  happiness,  neither  is 
the  heat  of  angry  reprimand  like  a  consuming  fire, 
whose  end  is  mora.  destruction. 

As  in  casual  society  it  were  well  to  be  wary  and 
distrustful,  in  social  intercourse  it  is  better  to  be  sin- 
cere and  unsuspecting;  remembering  that  though 


32 

erring  man  prove  your  accuser,  God  is  the  judge  of 
all  that  breathe  and  bless,  and  sin  and  suffer.  Man, 
the  cause  and  the  victim  of  events,  whose  guardian  is 
truth,  whose  guide  is  conscience,  whose  reward  is  the 
sympathies  of  a  feeling  heart,  and  the  sacredness  of 
an  unprevaricating  mind. 

50. 

The  mere  words  of  KINDNESS,  even  admitting  that 
such  were  but  a  voice ;  yet  are  the  SAveet  tones  of  that 
voice  more  valuable  and  more  valued  by  the  touched 
heart  of  affliction,  than  thousands  of  fine  gold  dis- 
played with  arrogance,  bestowed  with  admonition, 
or  lavished  with  the  complacent  superiority  of  con- 
scious munificence. 

LINES 

TO    THE    BREATH    OF    KINDNESS. 


The  following  lines  being,  as  their  style  imports,  a  produc- 
tion of  early  youth,  are  here  inserted,  not  surely  for  po- 
etic merit,  but  rather  for  the  grateful  sentiment  at  that  pe- 
riod felt,  uttered,  and  inscribed 

TO   THE    KINDEST    OF    THE   KIND.(l) 

SWEET  is  the  garden's  breeze  that  flows, 
With  health  and  sweetness  from  the  rose ; 
Charm'd  was  the  strain  Cecilia  knew, 
And  with  enrapturing  finger  drew ; 
So  sweet  the  breath  which  kindness  moves, 
So  charms  the  voice  attention  loves : 
She,  with  the  organ's  lifted  peal, 


33 


Could  make  a  listening  Angel  feel, 
With  floating  wing  from  heaven  descend. 
And  o'er  her  fine  attractions  bend,* 
To  thee  a  finer  strain  is  given, 
A  strain  that  wins  the  heart  to  heaven. 

What  time  the  breath  of  kindness  steals 

O'er  every  pang  that  sorrow  feels ; 

With  all  affection's  hoarded  stores, 

How  rich  the  balmy  whisper  pours, 

Rich  as  the  spring's  first  blossom  blow*. 

Warm  as  the  lip  of  summer  glows ; 

Sweet  as  the  morning's  clovered  vale, 

And  healthful  as  its  zephyr'd  gale, 

More  prized  than  wealth  ;  than  worlds  more  dear  . 

Still  may  that  whisper  loiter  near ; 

Still  to  this  trusting  heart  reveal, 

What  only  thou — LOVED  FRIEND  !  can'st  feel. 


51. 

SUCCESS  animates  and  invigorates  the  soul.  Dis- 
appointment chills  and  depresses  the  heart ;  and  yet 
the  overheated  excitement  of  continual  SUCCESS,  like 
that  of  the  grosser  stimulants  of  food,  is  oftener 
known  to  enfeeble,  and  sometimes  found  to  debase 
when  it  seemed  to  exhilarate,  was  expected  to 
strengthen,  and  pretended  to  preserve ;  while  the 
frost  of  affiiction,  like  that  of  the  element,  braces 
the  mind,  gives  strength  to  the  principles,  and  im- 
proves the  moral  constitution  of  the  heart. 

Do  the  imposing  look,  the   deriding  laugh,  and 

*  In  the  legends  of  the  saints,  it  is  written  that  saint  Cecilia,  the  invent- 
ress  of  the  organ,  drew  an  angel  from  heaven  by  the  melody  of  that  divine 
instrument. 

5 


34 

the  cold-hearted  contempt  of  neglect,  belong  to  the 
sensibilities  of  sorrow  ?  Or  can  the  blessed  kindness 
of  good- will  benefit  or  oblige  him,  who  holds  every 
boon  as  his  legitimate  due,  and  considers  every  be- 
ing of  less  pampered  prosperity,  as  his  unquestioned 
inferior. 

High  minded  pride,  with  corrected  feeling,  be- 
longs to  the  dignified  humility  of  misfortune.  Low 
thoughted  vanity  is  an  attribute  of  selfish  unpitying 
SUCCESS,  thanking  his  God  that  he  is  not  as  other 
men,  nor  even  like  this  poor  publican. 

52. 

SUCCESS  is  sometimes  seemingly  the  gift  of  God. 
to  the  most  benevolent  of  his  creatures,  clothing  the 
naked  and  feeding  the  hungry,  in  remuneration  of 
no  earthly  reward,  excepting  that  of  the  prayer  and 
the  praise  of  those  who  were  ready  to  perish. 

To  whom  shall  the  wretched  look  for  succour? 
and  from  whom  and  of  whose  bounty  does  that  suc- 
cour descend  ?  but  of  him,  the  fortunate  and  the  be- 
neficent ;  the  largess  of  whose  charity  is  not  con- 
fined to  the  gift  of  silver  and  of  gold,  of  food  and  of 
raiment,  but  whose  voice  is  the  melody  of  kindness, 
whose  eye  is  the  harbinger  of  feeling,  and  whose 
heart  is  the  abode  of  brotherly  love,  while  the  unit- 
ed power  and  will,  like  that  of  the  Deity,  is  found 
in  the  blessing  of  his  deeds. 

"  Lord  of  every  liberal  art, 

"  Open  hand  and  generous  heart." 

To  the  inspired  enterprise  of  that  individual  Mind 
from  whose  true  character  such  features  have  been 


35 

delineated,  the   genius  of  SUCCESS  seems   as   closely 
united,  as  if  it  were  not,  and  must  not  be  severed. 

Of  the  name  and  station  of  that  favoured  one, 
what  harbour  !  what  mart  !  what  nation  of  the  civ- 
ilized earth,  or  the  navigable  ocean,  yet  remains  un- 
informed, or  unregarding ! 

53. 

A  being  composed  of  passionate  elements,  and 
subject  to  paroxysms,  is  dangerous  and  must  not  be 
trusted ;  yet  such  may  be  conciliated  into  reason,  or 
reasoned  into  conciliation. 

But  hold  no  hope  in  the  close  and  gloomy  TEMPE- 
RAMENT of  that  man,  whose  speech  is  slow  and  me- 
chanical, whose  countenance  is  cold  and  silent,  his 
anger  pale  and  trembling ;  while  his  blood  never 
warms  without  boiling;  for  the  violence  of  such  de- 
mands a  victim  ;  the  fearful  laugh  of  his  rage,  like 
the  insidious  smile  of  his  malice,  is  the  triumph  of 
hatred  over  innocence ;  and  his  kindest  moments, 
wrapped  up  in  concealment,  are  without  pity  and 
without  remorse ;  in  probing  the  bosom  of  truth,  he 
keeps  his  own  thoughts  hidden,  burying  their  real 
character  under  impenetrable  mystery. 

If  such  men  are  !  they  are  most  perilous  ! 

54. 

There  are,  in  whose  TEMPERAMENT  the  violence 
of  passion  is  so  blended  with  the  malignity  of  re- 
membrance, that,  though  their  fury  should  kill,  yet, 
like  the  wilder  brutes  of  prey,  pity  would  not  be  in- 
duced, nor  mercy  appear,  nor  remorse  nor  reform 
ever  come. 


36 

Yet  it  is  said  the  lion  may  be  tamed,  and  even  the 
venom  of  the  serpent  averted  by  the  mind  or  music 
of  man;  while  the  ferocious  and  unmerciful  world- 
ling, can  neither  be  made  docile  through  art,  nor 
hurtless  in  nature. 

Happily,  of  this  species,  like  that  of  other  cruel 
animals,  the  individuals  of  feeble  increase  do  not 
multiply  among  better  mortals,  and  as  rarely  seen, 
are  usually  known,  marked,  and  avoided. 

55. 

Most  of  us  would  die  of  despair,  if  we  knew  what 
were  occasionally  uttered  against  us,  even  by  our 
best  friends,  who  may  merely  hope  to  palliate  of- 
fences, by  conceding  imperfections. 

Let  us  not  then  be  curious  to  enquire,  since  such 
curious  enquiry,  if  gratified,  would  but  vex  the 
heart,  mislead  the  mind,  and  accumulate  further  inju- 
ries ;  for  too  partial  to  be  just,  when  the  subject  in- 
volves our  own  vanities,  and  without  the  ability  ei- 
ther to  defend  those  vanities  or  to  rescue  ourselves 
from  DETRACTION,  we  only  invite  new  assaults,  and 
give  strength  to  that  enmity,  whose  feeble  or  doubt- 
ful existence  might  by  silent  forbearance,  speedily 
have  passed  away. 

Hence,  let  those  unfortunates,  who  fear,  and  feel, 
and  think  they  may  have  merited  obloquy,  continue 
to  pursue  the  real  substance,  to  them,  of  evil  report ; 
while  for  the  upright  mind  of  good  intention,  such 
report  is  as  a  dark  shadow,  fast  fading  to  oblivion;  a 
discordant  sound,  heard,  and  lost  forever. 


56. 

Nine  times  out  of  ten,  SLANDER  is  the  mere  pas- 
time of  the  idle,  unfounded  in  truth,  yet  unaccompa- 
nied by  malice  ;  and  unless  the  character  attacked 
happen  to  be  of  much  personal  importance,  but  lit- 
tle stress  is  laid,  or  esteem  lost,  nor  does  recollec- 
tion of  the  specific  charge  remain ;  and  thence  is  it 
reiterated,  that  listening  to  the  individual  report, 
and  attempting  the  refutation  of  what  touches  our- 
selves, were  dangerous  folly ;  which,  awakening  the 
pride  of  the  SLANDERER,  involves  the  necessity  of 
his  confirming  either  directly  or  indirectly,  what  had 
been  asserted,  and  further  induces  the  wish  of  mak- 
ing proselytes. 

Thus  annexing  the  evils  of  publicity  and  enmity, 
to  the  inflicted  wrongs  of  the  conscious  sufferer. 

57. 

Listen  not  to  the  DEFAMER,  since,  were  he  kind, 
and  tender,  and  charitable  and  good,  he  would  not  ap- 
pear before  you,  as  the  voluntary  libeller  of  an  er- 
ring mortal  like  himself,  whose  individuality  par- 
takes of  virtues  and  miseries  like  his  own;  whose 
secret  thoughts  he  never  read,  and  whose  true  mo- 
tives he  cannot  learn. 

Listen  not — or  can  you  believe  in,  or  trust  to 
one,  whose  heart  is  unsound  ?  his  assertions  confess- 
edly founded  in  ignorance,  or  mentally  built  on  false- 
hood— having  lent  his  principles  to  the  weakness  of 
prejudice,  or  resigned  his  soul  to  the  distortions  of 
DEFAIMATIOX. 


38 


58. 

To  complain  of  injury,  and  to  expose  with  recrim- 
ination the  coarse  character  of  the  injurer,  is  per- 
haps meanly  pitiful  and  most  unworthy ;  but  it  is 
not  CALUMNY,  which,  founded  upon  envy,  attacks 
neither  the  false  nor  the  feeble ;  but  rather  the 
strong  and  the  gifted. 

59. 

CALUMNY  finds  facts  and  distorts  them,  searching 
and  probing  a  slight  blemish,  until  it  appear  or  be- 
come an  incurable  wound. 

The  CALUMNIATOR,  always  awake  and  never  wea- 
ried, like  the  PERSONAGE  described  in  holy  writ,  may 
be  seen  walking  to  and  fro,  selecting  the  fairest 
fruits  of  human  excellence,  with  an  hard  hand,  and 
voracious  appetite,  to  pluck  down  and  devour. 

60. 

The  zeal  of  calumny,  even  by  the  inconsistency 
of  its  intemperance,  is  not  unfrequently  known  to 
turn  upon  the  calumniator,  and  rescue  the  victim ; 
for  malignity  peeping  out  beneath  the  thick  veil  of 
affected  palliation,  appears  in  native  ugliness,  so  re- 
pulsive, that  the  offended  ear  and  eye  turn  in  concil- 
iation to  the  better  features  of  the  abused. 

In  effect,  holding  that  as  impossible,  which  was 
only  improbable,  or  simply  untrue. 

At  the  same  time  it  should  be  understood  and  re- 
membered that  the  honest  indignation  which  virtuous 
minds  feel  and  utter  against  detected  atrocity,  is  nei- 
ther DETRACTION,  SLANDER,  DEFAMATION  nor  CALUMNY. 


39 


61. 

Why  does  the  promised  and  promising  festivity  of 
a  future  day,  usually  terminate  in  disappointment  or 
end  in  disgust  ? 

Because  to  the  worldly  minded  anticipations  ap- 
proach with  a  fair  face,  Avarm  and  smiling,  while 
retrospection,  cold  and  wearied,  returns  in  features 
of  gloom  or  of  reproach  ;  for  the  words  of  prom- 
ise are  kind,  and  the  language  of  performance  rude 
in  seeming  deficiency,  because  in  pride  and  selfishness 
of  heart,  measuring  our  hopes  by  our  merits,  the  re- 
ceipt can  never  equal  the  calculation  and  its  de- 
mands. 

The  despotism  of  human  vanity,  like  that  of  ar- 
bitrary sway,  has  neither  equals  nor  friends,  nor 
even  subjects ;  all  are  held  as  slaves  or  as  enemies. 

Also  the  poorest  in  human  happiness  is  not  unfre- 
quently  the  most  gifted  and  graced  by  wordly  pos- 
sessions. 

Let  those  therefore,  who  tread  the  plain  and  lev- 
el path  of  perfect  mediocrity  in  contentment  of  soul, 
be  grateful  for  the  blessing  present  and  possessed, 
neither  resting  on  the  precarious  hope  of  TOMOR- 
ROW, nor  repining  at  the  positive  disappointment  of 
YESTERDAY. 

62. 

If,  under  the  sparkling  point  of  much  WIT,  there 
be  sometimes  discovered  the  hidden  canker  of  much 
malice,  this,  usually  betraying  itself,  would  prove 
harmless,  were  it  not,  that  dazzled  by  the  brilliancy 


40 

of  the  gem,  we  purposely  overlook  or  wilfully  dis- 
regard the  alloy  of  the  setting  and  the  coarseness  of 
the  workmanship. 

Never  reflecting  that  we  also  are  vulnerable,  and  in 
what  touches  the  egotism  of  self-love,  so  far  from 
indifferent,  that  when  no  longer  able  to  admire  and 
exult,  we  complain  and  accuse.  At  the  same  time, 
and  by  the  same  means  reclaimed  from  the  voluntary 
blindness  of  presumption,  we  may  look  to  our  own 
imperfections,  and  through  discipline  learn  mercy. 

63. 

YOUTH  and  BEAUTY  are  endowments  usually  pos- 
sessed without  the  present  consciousness  either  of 
their  blessing  or  their  brevity.  And  it  is  only  in  the 
autumn  and  twilight  of  passing  existence,  that  we  re- 
member the  blushing  sweetness  of  YOUTH  in  the 
brilliant  morning  of  its  unavailing  BEAUTY. 

An  awakened  remembrance  usually  clouded  by 
sorrow — a  faded  rose  with  thorns  striking  to  the 
heart ;  for  whose  deep  wounds  remaining  life  brings 
and  has  no  remedy. 

64. 

Is  our  friend  or  benefactor  attempted  to  be  made 
the  base  subject  of  censure,  or  the  more  vile  object 
of  ridicule ;  great  were  the  sin  of  silence  on  our 
part,  and  greater  the  crime  of  acquiescence,  what- 
ever the  pretences  of  PRECAUTION  or  the  pleadings 
of  POLICY  may  be,  for  silence  is  even  proverbially 
submission  to  consent,  while  acquiescence  were 


41 

treachery,  confirming  the  aspersion,  and  fixing  the 
odium,  as  if  willing  to  immolate  the  high  sentiment 
of  FIDELITY  to  the  mean  feeling  of  POLICY. 

65. 

DEBTS  of  hard  necessity  are  pitiable  or  deplora- 
ble ;  DEBTS  of  vain  luxury,  pernicious  or  atrocious  ; 
yet  there  are,  who,  with  prodigal  selfishness,  out- 
stepping station,  and  outrunning  income,  may  be  seen 
pushing  credit  to  extremity,  till  it  fall  arid  is  lost  for- 
ever ;  then  sporting  promises  until  these  and  their 
broken  faith  are  given  up  to  the  meanness  of  false- 
hood^ or  left  to  the  punishment  of  perfidy.  And  yet 
the  inadvertent  spendthrift  will  learn,  and  must 
know,  that  the  folly  of  habitual  DEBT  may  be  class- 
ed among  the  least  pardonable  of  human  frailties ; 
that  to  retrieve  former  extravagance  by  future  res- 
ponsibility, is  like  flying  to  a  furnace  for  the  cure  of 
a  fever  ;  it  is  the  endeavour  to  save  a  sinking  ship  by 
contriving  to  force  new  apertures,  under  pretence 
of  driving  out  the  sea-wave. 

Frequently  and  more  fatally,  DEBT  may  be  con- 
sidered idleness  preying  upon  industry  ;  waste  and 
vanity  counteracting  good  will,  and  defrauding  gen- 
erosity ;  an  offence  which  the  penal  law  does  not 
properly  reach,  and  which  the  laws  of  honour  and 
humanity  do  and  ought  to  condemn ;  an  irregularity 
which  pampers  the  worthless  and  starves  the  wor- 
thy ;  which  plants  hope  and  reaps  despair,  leading  to 
incalculable  vice,  and  leaving  to  incurable  misery, 
sometimes  courting  inebriation  as  a  possible  specific, 
6 


42 

and  often  embracing  suicide  as  a  .certain  remedy; 
whose  victim  lives  in  shame  and  may  die  in  sorrow, 
leaving  no  one  excellence  to  embalm  or  redeem  his 
memory. 

66. 

DECISION  of  character  is  .essential  to  those  who 
mean  to  be  distinguished. 

A  man  may  be  unblameable  and  of  some  personal 
merit,  but  if  he  temporise  or  be  deficient  in  that  en- 
ergy of  soul,  which,  founded  on  principle,  enables  him 
with  precision  and  possession  to  determine  and  to  dare  ; 
whatever  his  philosophy,  or  even  his  good  sense  may 
pretend,  he  will  be  unnoticed  or  despised,  as  equal- 
ly unworthy  of  worshippers  or  calumniators. 

67. 

MODERATION  and  forbearance  of  temper  are  God- 
like. MODERATION  and  circumspection,  through  sys- 
tem, from  stratagem,  and  by  calculation,  are  con- 
temptible. 

The  man  who  studiously  avoids  difficulties,  and 
reasons  upon  consequences,  when  he  might  possibly 
serve  or  save,  may  be  an  harmless  acquaintance,  but 
is  a  selfish  uninteresting  friend,  and  a  sordid  cold 
hearted  advocate. 

68. 

It  has  been  truly  said  that  "  hypocrisy  is  the  hom- 
age which  vice  pays  to  virtue ;"  it  is  equally  true, 
.that  falsehood  is  the  tribute  which  ENVY  grants  to 


43 

genius,  as  seemingly  no  one  arrives  at  eminence,  with- 
out the  accompaniment  of  injury  and  misrepresenta- 
tion. 

An  equal  consolation  this  to  the  great,  and  to  the 
little  individuals  of  this  poor  world. 

69- 

ENVY  is  the  frailty  of  mean  minds,  united  with 
irascible  tempers  humiliated  by  conscious  inferiority, 
without  natural  resources,  and  unable  to  elevate 
themselves;  these  are  agonized  to  the  desperate 
ambition  of  climbing  above  the  depression,  or  bright- 
ening over  the  shadow  of  another's  fall. 

Is  ENVY  then  humility  ? — Look  at  the  envious. 

70. 

The  good,  the  wise,  and  the  gifted,  are  rarely 
among  the  envious  ;  the  proud,  the  passionate  and 
the  credulous,  with  animated  feelings,  seem  less 
adicted  to  ENVY,  than  the  cold  hearted,  the  suspi- 
cious and  the  questioner ;  positive  foibles,  mingled 
with  possible  virtues,  rendering  an  individual  more 
tolerable,  and  more  tolerant,  than  the  separation  or 
non-existence  of  both ;  since  perfection  cannot  bear, 
and  frailty  will  not  forbear. 

Also,  the  proud,  the  passionate  and  the  credulous, 
are  usually  too  high  minded  or  too  hot  headed,  to 
assimilate  in  any  sort  with  that  freezing  malevolence 
which  belongs  to  the  narrowing  selfishness  of  ENVY. 


44 


71. 

Every  malignant  passion  has  its  remedy,  or  at 
least,  its  melioration,  excepting  that  of  ENVY,  for 
which  every  native  excellence,  every  acquired  vir- 
tue, every  additional  benefit,  lives  and  shines,  but  to 
embitter  the  individual  hatred;  giving  force  to  an- 
tipathy and  strength  to  abhorrence  even  while  it 
disarms  accusation. 

72. 

ENVY  is    a  Proteus,  assuming   many  shapes,  and 
borrowing  many  languages ;  occasionally  even  those 
of  encomium,  sympathy,  compassion  arid  friendship  ; 
under  which  disguise  it  surely  stabs  deepest ;  for 
the  praises  of  envy  have  hyperbole,  and  produce  the 
ludicrous,  or  being  comparative,  excite  indignation — 
or  are  decidedly  false,  as  founded   on   qualities  not 
appropriate    to    the    individual,   and  generate  con- 
tempt, or  kindle  dislike,  which,  falling  on  the  victim, 
leave  impunity,  possibly   applause,  for  the  violator. 
Hence,  if  ENVY  seem  to  commend,   it  is  with  effort 
or  in  excess,  in  terms  which  chill  by  their  coldness, 
or  surprise  by  their  vehemence,  as   less  intent  upon 
elevating  the  object,  than  by  the  wiles  of  assimilation, 
or  by  the  strength  of  contrast,  to  push  down  or  over- 
whelm  it ;    for  the   frozen   wilderness   of  an  envi- 
ous heart   may  be  compared  to   that  of  the    upper- 
most Alps,  or  rather  to  that  of  the  Arctic  shore  and 
station,  as  having  neither  calm  nor  comfort,  nor  cheer, 
nor  charities.     Thence,  in  avoiding  the  treacherous 
Ice-berg,  beware  of  the  outrageous  storm-drift. 


45 


73. 

We  are  always  prompt  in  remembering  what  va- 
rious claims,  and  how  many  rights  we  individually 
hold  in  the  great  scale  of  society ;  while  it  is  not 
unusual  to  forget,  that  to  those  claims,  and  to  these 
rights,  reciprocating  duties  of  equal  obligation  are 
annexed.  Since  but  few,  if  any,  among  the  whole,  the 
healthy  and  the  sane,  are  so  truly  unimportant,  and 
so  really  inefficient,  as  to  be  neither  capable  of  con- 
ferring benefits,  nor  of  inflicting  grievances ;  and 
whenever  or  wherever  the  GOOD  arid  the  useful  are 
rejected,  expect  too  surely  that  the  EVIL  and  the 
burdensome  will  be  substituted. 

To  escape  this  EVIL,  and  for  the  attainment  of 
that  GOOD,  it  is  only  essential  to  impress  upon  re- 
membrance the  simple  fact,  that  THERE  ARE  NO  RIGHTS 

WITHOUT  DUTIES. 

74. 

Individuals  may  sometimes  be  found,  of  temper  so 
untameable,  that  upon  offence  taken,  with  or  with- 
out cause,  MALEDICTION  follows  in  vain  wishes  of  im- 
mediate death  for  the  offender  ;  under  seeming  med- 
itation of  delight  at  the  probable  or  possible  ful- 
filment of  such  vain  wishes  at  the  judgment  seat  of 
heaven. 

Even  of  that  merciful  heaven  which  has  not  rest- 
ed the  life  or  destiny  of  any  one  of  its  creatures 
upon  the  cruel  MALEDICTION  of  an  enemy  ;  but  rath- 
er in  severe  justice,  turning  aside  from  the  ferocious 
mind,  sees  the  angel  of  compassion  descend  with 


46 

peace  and  good  will  to  the  heart  of  the  gentle,  the 
gracious  and  the  forgiving. 

75. 

Strive  not  too  anxiously  to  please  by  AGREEABLE- 
NESS  of  mind,  nor  of  manner ;  since  in  this,  vain  were 
the  endeavour  of  art  without  the  gift  of  nature  ; 
useless  the  address  of  cunning,  disclaiming  the  sanc- 
tity of  principle. 

76. 

The  really  agreeable  charm  without  effort  and 
without  consciousness;  while  the  merely  CUNNING 
may  succeed  in  any  attempt  sooner  than  in  that  of 
agreeableness,  since  there  exists  a  certain  uncon- 
cealable  finesse  and  management  of  caution  in  the 
dispositions  of  the  CUNNING,  which,  causing  distrust, 
forbid  confidence,  and  prevent  attraction. 

Yet,  to  the  naturally  agreeable,  there  is  usually 
annexed  an  ingenuousness  of  mind  which  treads  so 
closely  upon  the  heel  of  inadvertence,  that  the  ex- 
tremely attractive  are  more  liable  to  compel  affec- 
tion than  to  command  respect. 

77. 

There  does  indeed  exist  a  sort  of  capacity  in  CUN- 
NING ;  but  this  bears  no  affinity  to  superior  intellect, 
as  CUNNING  is  the  certain  expedient  of  weakness. 

The  strong  mind,  like  the  strong  frame,  in  con- 
scious power  openly  asserts,  and  generously  defends ; 
while  CUNNING,  veering  as  the  wind,  and  undulating 
as  the  wave,  may,  like  those  stormy  elements,  in  sue- 


47 

cessful  mischief,  distress,  disjoint  and  undermine ; 
but  the  clear  sun-beam  of  genius,  in  its  vertical 
force,  gives  light,  and  life  and  beauty,  to  all  the 
works  of  man,  and  to  every  gift  of  nature  and  of 
God. 

78. 

In  associating  with  the  unfortunate,  it  seems  easy 
to  forget  their  names,  their  features,  and  their  suf- 
ferings, but  it  is  really  more  easy  to  forget  OURSELVES, 
the  littleness  of  our  consequence,  the  brevity  of  our 
existence. 

79. 

Does  the  finger  of  ACCUSATION  point  at  the  inno- 
cent ?  and  is  he  reviled? 

Let  him  seriously  reflect,  that  the  past  word,  like 
the  past  deed,  may  be  redeemed,  but  can  never  be 
recalled  ;  and  let  him  serenely  enquire,  if  it  were  not 
more  healing  to  forgive,  reconcile,  and  where  possi- 
ble, to  forget  the  injury,  and  the  injure r ;  even  con- 
science and  principle,  resting  exclusively  on  ourselves, 
are  neither  to  be  distorted  by  malice,  nor  depraved 
by  unmerited  and  unmerciful  ACCUSATION. 

80. 

CIVILITY  is  a  debt  due  to  every  one,  a  debt  will- 
ingly and  punctually  paid  even  to  adversity  herself, 
by  the  enlightened  and  the  kind-hearted ;  while  the 
weak,  the  vain  and  the  insolent,  are  seen  fraudu- 
lently transferring  their  whole  stock  to  the  persons 
of  the  prosperous. 


81, 

CIVILITY  in  fact  promises  nothing,  while  it  implies 
every  thing :  and  being  held  as  the  lawful  right  of 
all,  its  omissions,  resented  by  the  mean,  and  despised 
by  the  proud,  appear  only  worthy  of  pity  to  the  se- 
riously reflecting  mind. 

82. 

What  is  more  easy  of  performance  than  mere  CI- 
VILITY ?  what  more  safe,  or  less  encumbered  ?  since 
it  may  appear  even  under  the  insolence  of  pride  ; 
when  it  assumes  the  name  of  condescension ;  or  is 
cold  and  forbids  approach,  or  lightly  familiar  and 
implies  superiority ;  but  in  its  perfection,  CIVILITY  is 
kind,  inviting  confidence,  and  attracting  good  will. 

In  reality,  a  bow,  a  smile,  a  word,  cost  nothing, 
while  the  total  omission  of  these  may  prove  the  pos- 
sible purchase  of  evils  incalculable. 

The  contempt  thus  indicated,  being  repaid  with  ten- 
fold disdain,  causes  estrangement,  and  leads  to  enmity, 
•followed  by  the  bitter  sarcasm  of  personal  reproach. 
Hence,  injury,  with  its  whole  host  of  tormentors, 
all  of  which  might  have  been  arrested  by  a  look, 
or  propitiated  by  the  easy  graciousness  of  passing 
CIVILITY. 

Yet  surely  the  most  pointed  shaft  of  incivility 
would  fall  hurtless,  were  we  simply  to  reflect,  that 
the  rude  and  the  neglectful  have  not,  and  are  not,  of 
the  sensible,  and  the  amiable. 


48 


LINES 

fNSCRIBED  TO   A   CELEBRATED  HISTORICAL  PAINTER,   UPON   HIS   RETURN 
FROM    GREAT    BRITAIN    TO    THE    UNITED   STATES. 


Not  RAPHAEL — that  these  lowly  lays, 
Can  reach  the  summit  of  thy  praise, 
That  thou,  the  young  Columbia's  boast, 
The  pride  of  Britain's  polished  coast, 
Can'st  from  the  muses  fragrant  breath. 
Receive  a  finer,  fonder  wreath ; 
Than  that  too  rival  worlds  bestow, 
To  grace  thy  fame  embellished  brow. 
But  holier  friendship  bows  the  knee, 
To  virtue,  genius,  and  to  thee. 

She,  whose  fair  morn  of  life  was  new, 
When  on  that  voice  instruction  grew, 
While  every  word  a  moral  taught, 
And  kindness  won  the  wandering  thought. 
She  sees  her  early  friend  restored, 
With  every  worth  her  youth  adored, 
Sees  him,  unlike  the  summer  race, 
Who  shun  affliction's  altering  face ; 
Still  the  benignant  accent  hears, 
Still  finds  that  worth  her  soul  reveres. 

Ah,  RAPHAEL  !  not  the  loud  acclaim, 
And  far  extending  voice  of  fame ; 
Not  all  the  joys  THY  ART  can  give, 
Not  through  the  lapse  of  time  to  live. 


50 

Not  all  thy  patriot  -valour*  known, 
The  light  with  which  thy  Parent]  shone  ! 
Can  to  thy  bosom  yield  a  good, 
Like  thine  own  conscious  rectitude. 

For  me,  by  many  a  lesson  taught, 
Of  patient  hope,  the  enduring  thought; 
Oft  have  I  met  the  insidious  stare, 
The  mean  neglect,  the  enquiring  air. 
Which  shunning  every  kindlier  part,. 
Still  probed  the  lacerated  heart. 
While  malice  urged  the  shaft  of  pain, 
Have  bid  the  smile  of  pity  reign  ; 
And  proud  serenity  controul 
The  anguish  of  the  indignant  soul. 
Have  seen  the  giddy  careless  tjhrong, 
Melt  at  the  sorrows  of  a  song  ; 
While  the  mild  stranger  still  supplied,. 
That  tear,  known  arrogance  denied. 

In  vain  the  searching  mind  has  sought, 
For  worth,  mid  folly's  rude  resort, 
And  still  with  heart-exulting  pride, 
Found  TRUTH  with  GENIUS  close  allied. 

83. 

If  we  do  not  all  live  to  improved  virtue,  at  least, 
we  exist  to  acquired  wisdom.  EXPERIENCE  teaches 
and  tames  the  wildest,  restraining  the  dream  of  im- 
agination, which  rests  upon  the  future,  in  disregard 
of  the  present ;  and  for  that  we  have  not  possess- 
ed, relinquishes  what  we  have,  and  ought  to  cherish. 

*  As  a  distinguished  officer  of  high  rank  in  the  American  Revolution, 
f  The  late  Governor  of  a  neighbouring  state. 


51 


84. 

EXPERIENCE,  recalling  the  past,  impels  justice  to 
ourselves,  arid  forbearance  to  others,  by  instructing 
how  much  better  our  own  personal  conduct  might 
have  been,  and  how  infinitely  worse,  with  more  of 
actual  injury,  it  were  possible  for  others  to  have  per- 
petrated against  us, 

85. 

Who  is  there  among  the  children'of  erring  human- 
ity, of  life,  and  temper,  and  station,  so  pure,  so  blest 
and  so  brilliant ;  so  guided,  guarded  and  graced,  that 
the  wily  serpent  of  MOCKERY  cannot  reach  ?  nor  the 
deep  shadow  of  MALICE  obscure  ? 

What  MOCKERY  cannot  deride,  MALICE  may  de- 
grade ;  and  where  the  shaft  of  ridicule  would  seem 
pointless  and  of  no  avail,  the  mischievous  fiends  of 
doubt,  suspicion,  hint  and  anecdote,  are  ready  with 
the  dagger  and  the  chalice,  to  strike  where  they 
may  not  crush,  and  to  poison  what  they  cannot  anni* 
hilate. 

86. 

If  ADVICE  come  uncalled  for,  it  usually  comes  in 
vain,  but  when  courted  and  solicited,  like  worldly  fa- 
vorites, it  is  met  with  civility,  and  listened  to  with 
complacency ;  though  seldom  followed,  and  some- 
times feared,  it  is,  nevertheless,  admitted,  flattered, 
evaded,  or  reconciled. 


52 


87. 

We  are  oftener  bewildered  than  benefited  bj 
ADVICE. 

For  admitting  the  judgment  of  another  to  be  more 
clearly  capable  than  our  own,  yet  his  friendship, 
his  heart,  and  his  principles,  may  be  more  cold,  hard 
and  crooked,  whence  he  willingly  disappoints,  or 
gladly  misleads;  to  which,  add  the  possible  chance 
of  inferior  sense,  superior  cunning,  and  less  of  useful 
experience  ;  the  result  is,  that  it  were  more  safe  to 
rely  upon  the  reflecting  consciousness  of  our  own 
honest  mind,  than  upon  the  prejudging  opinion,  and 
deceptive  ADVICE  of  another. 

And  yet,  as  some  rays  of  mental  light  may,  upon 
collision,  gleam  through  the  dark  confusion  of  decid- 
ed dulness — and  even  strike  out  and  sparkle  from 
the  flint  of  hard  feeling — 4hese,  if  properly  conduct- 
ed, will  assist  in  disclosing  the  right  path,  whose  in- 
tricacies we  must  unravel  for  ourselves. 

88. 

If  ADVICE  be  usually  solicited  without  sincerity, 
and  under  no  reliance,  not  less  frequently  is  it  bestow- 
ed with  feelings  of  derision,  and  with  intentions  of 
delusion. 

In  fact,  led  by  the  vanity  of  our  hopes,  or  driven 
by  the  selfishness  of  our  fears,  we  resort  to  the 
ppinion  of  others,  apportioning  the  worth  of  such 
opinion  by  the  standard  of  our  own  desires  or  de^ 
gigns,  while  the  secret  intention  of  the  consulted  is 


53 

to  counteract  the  one  and  to  subvert  the  other,  for 
when  selfishness  and  vanity  have  covered  the  eyes 
with  a  bandage,  treachery  aims  his  shaft  unperceiv- 
ed  and  unsuspected,  even  to  the  death-wound. 

89. 

Why  should  we  kindle  into  anger,  or  irritate  into 
uneasiness,  uttering  accusation  against  those  by 
whom  we  discover  ourselves  to  be  DISLIKED? 

Since  liking  and  DISLIKING  are  not  always  of  voli- 
tion, but  sometimes  of  necessity,  born  of  prejudice, 
and  nurtured  by  passion :  if  the  weak  or  the  wicked 
betray  this  passion,  and  disclose  that  prejudice,  let 
us  simply  reflect  what  is  the  worth  of  opinion  such 
as  theirs  ? — something  perhaps  to  the  vain  and  way~ 
ward  world,  nothing  to  the  honest  mind  and  its  ap- 
proving conscience. 

Yet  should  this  fancied  evil  of  DISLIKE  arise  even 
from  the  just,  were  it  not  better,  silently  retreating  to 
the  home  of  our  own  heart,  patiently  to  search,  and 
properly  to  enquire,  if  no  personal  error,  no  cause  of 
offence,  remain  sheltered  and  lurking  there. 

Thus  correcting  our  individual  faults,  ere  we  car-^ 
ry  complaint  or  bring  reproach  to  others,  when  if 
we  find  ourselves  to  be  without  sin,  we  shall  be 
without  the  disposition  to  punish,  as  such,  the  mere 
mistakes  of  our  brethren. 

90. 

QUARRELS  of  any  description,  and  upon  every  ac- 
count, though  terminating  only  in  rash  words  and  re- 
ciprocated accusation,  are  so  degrading  to  the  parr 


54 

ties,  and  so  hurtful  to  what  reputation  they  happen 
to  possess,  that  there  are  but  few  unretorted  insults 
which  could  be  received,  nor  any  voluntary  humble- 
ness of  concession,  to  which  we  can  submit,  that  is, 
in  effect  more  hurtful,  or  so  productive  of  contempt, 
and  individual  avoidance,  as  the  impetuous  passions 
of  the  quarrelsome. 

The  quarrels  of  lovers  are  said  to  reproduce  af- 
fection ;  on  such  we  pretend  not  to  decide,  though 
it  may  surely  be  questioned  whether  intemperance 
of  language  and  mutual  displeasure,  are  remedies 
fitted  to  regenerate  kindness,  or  to  reconcile  exaspe- 
rated feelings. 

Neither  is  it  to  be  credited,  even  under  the  sorce- 
ry of  young  and  romantic  love,  that  by  any  spell  of 
his  talisman,  the  gall  of  mental  bitterness  will  seem 
as  sweetness  to  the  taste  ;  or  the  soured  spirit  of 
contention  be  known  to  improve  the  fine  flavour  of 
real  tenderness  of  heart,  and  true  delicacy  of  mind. 

Whatever  result  the  quarrels  of  lovers  may  in- 
deed have ;  most  fatal  were  such  experiment  upon 
the  relative,  the  friend  or  the  husband ;  to  the  heart 
of  ^tliese,  every  new  rupture  is  surely  a  new  wound, 
inflicted  as  by  a  dagger,  whose  sharpness  may  final- 
ly cut  assunder  the  tender  ties  of  affinity,  and  even 
rend  away  the  stronger  chain  of  enthusiastic  affec^ 
tion. 

91. 

If  under  the  extreme  exigency  of  misfortune,  ap- 
plication be  made  to  the  prosperous,  not  for  the 
charity  of  money,  but  for  that  of  sympathy,  or  of 


55 

counsel,  how  surely  is  the  word  PATIENCE  put  by 
them  in  the  imperative ;  as  if  grief  and  adversity 
were  always  deficient  in  that  virtue,  though  the  tri- 
als of  every  day,  and  every  hour,  impelling  the  ne- 
cessity, also  enforce  its  observance. 

92. 

As  when  the  evils  of  our  destiny  seem  desperate, 
PATIENCE  must  and  will  come,  if  not  with  the  cer- 
tainty of  a  cure,  at  least  in  bringing  an  opiate.  When 
addressing  the  afflicted,  were  it  not  better,  more 
blest  and  more  efficacious,  occasionally  to  offer  the 
words  of  kindness,  rather  than  always  to  urge  the 
duties  of  PATIENCE. 


PRAYER  TO  PATIENCE. 


CALM  GODDESS  of  the  steadfast  eye, 
Thy  coldest  apathy  impart, 

Since  from  a  world  of  woe  I  fly 
To  thee— 0  !  take  me  to  thy  heart. 

On  me  descend  with  healing  power, 
Assist  me  to  suppress  the  groan, 

Or  give  me  while  afflictions  lower, 
To  turn,  like  Niobe,  to  stone. 

Let  me  to  pride's  exulting  sneer, 
Oppose  thy  much  enduring  smile, 

Serene — when  angry  storms  appear. 
Silent — if  ruder  words  revile. 


56 

Subdue  the  tyrant  of  the  mind, 
Oppressive  enemy  of  thee : 

Ah !  who  can  hope  or  solace  find, 
When  racked  by  sensibility. 

Release  me  from  her  wearing  sway, 
And  shield  me  with  thy  firmer  aid, 

Secure,  when  I  thy  voice  obey ; 
Gentle  and  peace-preserving  maid. 

If  greater  pangs  this  bosom  rend, 
Than  ever  bosom  felt  before  ; 

Still  further  may  thy  sway  extend, 
And  greater,  deeper  be  thy  power. 

Be  every  wrong  disarmed  by  thee, 
Rob  poor  presumption  of  her  pride, 

Bid  malice  at  thy  presence  flee, 
Turn  envy's  venom'd  shaft  aside. 


i 


Let  false  reproach  some  mercy  feel, 
To  mean  neglect  be  kindness  lent ; 
\    From  passion  wrest  his  lifted  steel, 
y     From  dark  revenge,  his  discontent. 


Power  of  the  meek  and  silent  eye, 

Surround  me  with  thy  placid  charms ; 
To  thy  calm  graces  let  me  fly, 

My  only  refuge  is  thine  arms. 

93. 

Beauty  of  person,  gentleness  of  demeanour,  and 
accomplishment  of  mind,  in  commanding  admiration, 
may,  by  their  united  charm,  inspire  the  warmest 
passion  of  devoted  love. 

While  to  good  sense,  great  talents,  and  the  vir- 


tues,  there  is  only  awarded  the  seeming  coldness  of 
ESTEEM,  and  the  real  distance  of  RESPECT. 

Yet  be  it  recollected,  that  admiration,  and  even 
passionate  love,  by  nature  frail  and  fugitive,  are  less- 
ened or  lost  in  familiarity ;  while  the  truth  of  ES- 
TEEM, and  the  homage  of  RESPECT,  nurtured  by  inti- 
macy, and  matured  in  knowledge,  are  in  effect,  nei- 
ther cold  nor  distant,  nor  prone  to  change,  nor  sub- 
ject to  dissolution. 

94. 

Such  is  the  respect  paid  to  affluence,  that  there  is 
much  reason  to  believe,  even  of  the  best  of  us,  that 
we  never  truly  DISDAIN,  and  cannot  learn  to  DETEST 
any  man  of  elevated  station,  and  prosperous  for- 
tunes, simply  and  solely  for  bad  qualities  and  per* 
sonal  vices ;  provided  these  and  their  possessor  have 
in  no  way  and  by  no  means  injured,  or  given  offence, 
individually  to  ourselves. 

Then  indeed,  in  canvassing  we  have  no  mercy ; 
in  credulity  no  restraint,  and  in  the  condemnations 
of  DISDAIN  and  DETESTATION  seemingly  no  justice. 

If  such,  the  selfish  frailty  even  of  the  virtuous, — 
what  are  the  multitude  ? 

95. 

Cold,  unparticipating  and  joyless,  must  that  hermit 
heart  indeed  be,  which  fastidiously  rejects  even  with 
REPULSION  every  boon  of  trivial  obligation,  bestowed 
in  social  intercourse  by  the  worthy  and  the  kind, 
but  of  less  selfish  MEANNESS  than  his,  who  deigns  to 
solicit,  to  desire,  or  to  accept  services  from  a  source 


58          ; 

where  individual  regard  has  not  been,  and  personal 
respect  can  never  come. 

96. 

In  the  soul  of  that  man,  who  disdaining  to  be 
obliged,  has  never  felt  tlie  glow  of  GRATITUDE — ex- 
pect not  the  fervour  of  GENEROSITY,  nor  even  the 
warmth  of  good  will. 

For  he  is  a  solitary  being,  without  affinities  or  af- 
fections ;  like  the  lord  of  a  desolate  island,  has  sep- 
arated him  from  his  kind,  and  in  resigning  or  los- 
ing the  social  virtues,  given  up  the  whole  of  his  poor 
heart  to  SELFJSH  idolatry. 

97. 

The  gifted,  the  amiable  and  the  WISE,  with  ca- 
pacity to  astonish,  to  instruct,  and  to  enchant,  are, 
in  the  eloquence  of  WORDS,  sometimes  known  to  ex- 
tend that  capacity  to  an  extreme  surely  unanswera- 
ble, and  seemingly  interminable ;  and  yet  so  certain 
is  the  retribution  attendant  on  offences,  that  it  may 
be  presumed,  this  unconscious  excess  of  mind  rarely 
overflows  without  the  painful  after-thought  of  time 
misemployed — the  self-punishment  of  merited  dis- 
respect. 

As  inferiority  is  no  less  fatigued  by  the  necessity 
of  listening  too  long,  than  by  the  compulsion  of  ad- 
miring too  much ;  also  as  each  brings  to  the  social 
scene  his  whole  stock  of  understanding,  no  one  can 
chuse,  however  small  that  stock,  to  have  it  hidden 
by  arrogance,  as  if  a  single  talent  were  always  des- 
tined to  be  BURIED  IN  A  NAPKIN. 


98. 

There  are  persons  of  knowledge,  and  of  mind, 
with  faculties  to  please,  to  persuade,  and  to  inform ; 
but,  in  defiance  of  such  faculties,  or  as  deriving  pleas- 
ure from  DISPLEASING,  these  are  seen  individually  in 
society,  silently  detached,  and  seemingly  scornful ; 
or,  if  deigning  to  converse,  satirical,  personal,  and 
dogmatical,  as  if  born  to  inflict  and  to  endure  ;  for 
insolence  and  suffering  are  usually  inseparable. 

This  sort  of  sapient  misanthropy,  which  is  in  effect 
neither  brilliant  nor  instructive,  may  frequently  be 
detected  in  the  unsuccessful  fortune  hunter,  the  dis- 
appointed statesman,  the  half  reasoning  unbeliever, 
and  the  uncharitable  zealot ;  as  theirs,  but  not  theirs 
exclusively. 


CHARACTER  FROM  LIFE. 

IN   REPLY   TO   THE  QUESTION u  WHY   DOES   NO   ONE   LIKE   WHOM 

EVERY   ONE   ADMIRES?" 

VARRO. 


With  that  commanding  strength  of  brain, 
Which  right  and  wrong  obey, 

True  to  a  voice  whose  forceful  strain, 
Impels  the  will  away. 

With  beauty's  blessing  on  his  face, 
Eyes  that  with  genius  shine  ; 

Each  weil  proportioned  limb,  a  grace 
Which  flattery  calls  divine. 


60 


With  wealth,  whose  still  increasing  store, 
Ten  thousand  joys  might  claim, 

Station,  to  taste  the  sweets  of  power, 
In  honours,  wealth  and  fame. 

Say,  why  does  VARRO  live  unblessed, 

Why  not  one  heart  commend 
Him  ?  who  of  every  gift  possessed, 

But  kindness  and  a  friend. 

Not  one  to  like,  whom  all  admire, 
All  praise,  but  none  approve  ? — 

Though  frost  may  wake  the  electric  fire, 
It  cannot  kindle  love. 

Cold  is  that  dark  and  doubtful  mind, 
Gloomed  by  the  clouds  of  care, 

And  colder  to  himself  confined, 
The  good  that  labours  there. 

Thus  winning  to  the  dazzled  sight, 

The  polish'd  marble  shows, 
Fair  as  the  pale  moon's  silver  light, 

But  hard  as  trackless  snows. 

With  warmth,  the  hard  cold  marble  prove, 

It  owns  the  kind  controul ; 
But  what  the  stony  heart  can  move1 

Or  thaw  the  frozen  soul ! 


61 


MAUDLA. 

T*E   CARELESS   SINNER  TURNED  PERSECUTING   SAINT,   PARTLY   IMITATED 
FROM    THE    FRENCH. 


WHEN  Maud  was  young,  her  deeds  were  bad, 

Of  aged  Maud  the  ways  are  sad  ; 

That  sin  which  charmed  her  earlier  eyes, 

Now  from  her  hideous  figure  flies, 

And  since  that  Satan  tempts  no  more, 

She  to  her  God  unlocks  the  door ; 

As  if  what  tophet  loathes  and  leaves, 

Heaven  and  its  angel  host  receives, 

And  ugliest  sin  were  welcome  there, 

Where  all  is  good,  and  all  is  fair ; 

Thus  to  the  rancorous  heart  is  given 

The  hope  of  blessedness  and  heaven, 

Even  as  the  cankering  reptiles  come, 

To  where  the  peach  unfolds  its  bloom : 

And  from  the  veriest  trash  may  rise, 

The  bright  carnation's  fragrant  dyes.* 

49. 

Persons  of  rank  and  real  consequence,  if  they  have 
sense,  are  seldom  tenacious  of  EXTRAORDINARY  cere- 
mony, that  is,  in  ORDINARY  intercourse.  Their  sta- 
tion being  understood,  its  legitimate  rights  are  un- 
derstood also. 

Hence  the  truly  great  are   of  deportment  more 

*  The  character  from  the  French  prose,  and  that  which  precedes  it,  were 
a  task  imposed  on  the  author  at  the  city  of  Washington,  unappropriate,  and 
certainly  without  the  least  intended  personality. 


62 

yielding  than  exacting,  less  distant  than  familiar; 
while  the  ORDINARY  and  the  purse-proud,  jealous 
and  apprehensive,  arrogate  every  thing,  and  re- 
ciprocate nothing ;  as  if  anxious  to  obtain  that  sort 
of  lip-service,  whose  offering  of  milk  and  honey  the 
presence  of  wealth  may  compel ;  but  absence,  like  a 
sorcerer,  as  often  changes  to  the  bitterness  of  re- 
proach, or  to  the  acidity  of  sarcasm. 

Thus  is  nature  found  to  re-assert  her  rights,  caus- 
ing most  things  of  this  Avorld  to  feel  and  to  find  their 
proper  level,  whether  of  ORDINARY  or  EXTRAOR- 
DINARY. 


LINES  TO 
JOHN  C.  WARREN,  M.  D. 

OF    BOSTON,    MASS. 


•"  Known, 


j^Less  by  his  father's  glories  than  his  own." 

•«. 

WARREN  !  thy  name  to  every  patriot  dear, 
Seems  an  immortal  charm  to  genius  given, 
In  the  bold  annals  of  an  empire  famed, 
In  the  firm  records  of  her  wisdom,  prized ; 
- — A  star,  whose  path  is  glory — while  on  thee 
The  rays  descend,  reflected  and  reflective. 
For  thou  hast  nature's  wealth — treasures  of  mind; 
Enlarged  by  every  high  and  great  endowment. 
Which  culturing  art,  and  lettered  lore  bestow, 
Even  mid  thy  bloom  of  years  ;  fruits  ripe  as  autumn, 
And  as  the  youthful  summer's  earliest  ray, 


03 

Bounteous— were  seen,  in  life's  fair  morn  mature 

As  in  the  high  and  full  meridian  hour, 

Of  manhood's  bright  and  proud  pre-eminence. 

Envied,  admired,  approved,  hut  most  beloved, 
Since  all  the  sacred  charities  that  bless, 
With  every  finer  elegance,  that  lives 
Jn  look,  or  form,  or  accent,  are  thine  own. 

Behold  the  rescued  victim  of  disease, 
Him,  whom  thy  stedfast  eye  and  powerful  hand, 
Pitying,  have  pained,  and  saved  through  many  a  suffering, 
He,  mid  the  moan  of  anguish,  murmurs  blessings, 
While  ONE  of  mental  malady  the  prey, 
She  whose  hurt  brain,  and  ever  quivering  nerve, 
Invite  ;THE  GREAT  DETROYER  ;  she  has  hailed 
Thee,  gentlest  of  the  gentle, — not  more  prized 
For  science,  than  for  virtues,  heaven  awarded. 

Go  on,  and  in  the  path  where  peril  dwells, 
Meet  happiness — that  path  by  genius  trod, 
Is  strewed  with  honours — thy  true  heritage, 
But  most  enriched  by  thee — graceful  and  graced, 
In  all  the  high  nobility  of  nature. 

100. 

That  great  artist,  SALVATOR  ROSA,  has  some- 
where said,  "that  nature  seemed  to  have  formed 
him  solely  to  make  an  experiment  how  far  human 
suffering  could  go." 

And  yet  this  COMPLAINING  man  had  genius,  pat- 
ronage, friends  and  success — all  insufficient  to  awak- 
en gratitude,  or  to  stifle  discontent ;  for,  morally 
speaking,  repletion  has  its  hunger,  and  its  wants, 
equally  with  inanity  and  distress ;  whence  we  may 
estimate  the  virtues  and  the  blessings  of  patience. 


64 

submission  and  forbearance,  which,  born  of  humility^ 
live  in  the  heart,  subdue  the  passions,  and  regulate 
the  utterance. 

Or  of  what  avail  is  COMPLAINING?  Do  the  pros- 
perous hearken  and  heed  ?  Can  the  miserable  res- 
cue and  assist  ? 

If  the  mind  suffer,  bid  it  endure.  Is  the  heart 
bruised,  let  it  not  break  ; — rather  let  both  look  up 
and  search  out  their  resources.  These  are,  talents, 
fortitude,  resignation,  and  above  all,  industry. 

101. 

JESTING  is  not  wit,  and  yet  a  good  jest,  elicited  of 
gaiety  and  capacity,  fails  not  to  please  ^en  what  it 
touches. 

But  a  JEST,  poor  and  personal,  and  cankered  by 
malice,  though  like  a  very  dull  dagger,  without  point 
or  polish,  may  be  enabled  to  strike  deep,  and  cru- 
elly wound  the  nerves  of  self-love  and  sensibility, 
forcing  us  to  forget,  under  the  many  grievances  of 
human  life,  that  honour  and  victory  belong  to  the 
patient  wisdom  of  self-controul.  While  defeat  and 
contempt  follow  and  fall  on  the  wordy  violence  of 
recrimination. 

102. 

Does  not  the  word  INTERESTING  bring  an  idea  in 
positive  contrast  with  that  of  INTEREST  ?  for  the  af- 
flicted are  usually  more  interesting  than  the  affluent, 
to  whose  station  interest  seems  indissolubly  allied. 
Likewise  the  amiable,  the  sensible,  and  the  pretty, 


65 

in  obscure  stations,  are  always  interesting  to  the 
tender  and  the  generous. 

The  result  is,  that  the  timid,  the  distressed  and  the 
beautiful,  constitute  the  INTERESTING,  however  rejec- 
ted by  the  great  world  of  interest,  offering  suppli- 
cation, and  following  with  sacrifices  the  worship  of  a 
blind  divinity,  led  on  by  the  hand  of  chance  to  the 
proud  mansion,  rather  than  to  the  lowly  bower. 

Yet  there,  even  in  that  lowly  bower,  may  the  rich 
gifts  of  kinder  nature  be  found  ;  as  if  in  requital  to 
remunerate  those  on  whom  fortune  has  frowned,  and 
prosperity  had  slighted. 

103. 

Next  to  the  beauty  of  virtue,  is  that  of  HAPPINESS  ; 
causing  the  eye  to  speak  unutterable  things,  the  com- 
plexion to  bloom,  and  the  countenance  to  open  and 
brighten,  and  harmonize  with  that  look  of  heaven 
which  stamps  the  human  face  divine. 

Goodness  is  often  knowrn  to  exist  without  HAPPI- 
NESS ;  but  never  did  the  angel  of  felicity  illume  the 
features  of  the  wicked. 

104. 

HAPPINESS  may  be  defined  a  tranquil  sensation,  not 
to  be  confounded  with  the  impetuous  tumults  of 
PLEASURE  ;  while  that  is  incompatible  with  the  vio- 
lence of  the  passions,  this  seems  in  its  extravagance, 
to  have  no  other  origin.  That  is  not  versatile,  nei- 
ther is  it  liable  to  satiety ;  this  unequal  and  transi- 


66 

tory — that)  social  and  participating ;  this,  frequently 
selfish,  may  exist  uncommunicated. 

HAPPINESS  lives  in  the  soul,  and  is  closely  unit- 
ed with  the  moral  and  mental  capacities.  PLEA- 
SURE, principally  confined  to  the  senses,  disregards 
sentiment,  and  is  not  always  allied  to  the  virtues. 

Positively  contrasted,  yet  possibly  united,  these 
are  often  mistaken  for  each  other,  and  yet  more  of- 
ten blended,  appropriated  and  applied  to  the  empty 
honours  of  station,  and  to  the  yet  more  empty  minds 
of  individuals,  as  incapable  of  understanding  the  best 
properties  of  PLEASURE,  as  they  are  of  possessing  the 
true  principles  of  HAPPINESS. 

105. 

If  on  earth  happiness  exist,  it  is  in  the  breast  of 
the  TRANQUIL.  Whether  from  the  blessing  of  na- 
ture, the  kindness  of  fortune,  or  the  virtue  of  sub- 
dued passions,  TRANQUILLITY  is  goodness,  and  it  is 
happiness. 

Of  those  who  seemingly  have  drained  the  chal- 
ice of  affliction  even  to  its  very  dregs,  should  it  be 
permitted  them  but  to  taste  the  transient  cup  of  pros- 
perity ;  to  such  will  usually  belong  the  grateful  af- 
fections, the  tender  mercies,  the  tranquil  humility  of 
mildness. 

For  TRANQUILLITY  and  its  mental  beauty  is  most 
near  and  best  understood  by  him,  from  whose  soul 
the  shaft  of  severe  sorrow  is  withdrawn ;  its  wounds 
healed,  and  its  hopes  restored  even  in  this  world  of 
pain  and  perturbation. 

Serene  and  merciful,  in  reverting  to  himself,  he 


67 

sympathises  with  those  who  suffer,  and  is,  even  un- 
der the  very  interest  of  self-love,  social,  participating, 
arid  disinterested. 

106. 

Truly  there  is  ATTRACTION  in  the  gay  excess  of 
animal  spirits,  which  often  appertains  to  early  youth, 
but  what  can  equal  the  enchantment  of  bashful  sen- 
sibility, timidly  retreating  from  that  applause  which 
the  young  blush  of  beauty  never  fails  to  command. 

The  brilliant  and  laughing  hoyden  will  please,  for 
what  is  there  in  fair  and  guileless  youth  which  does 
not  ?  To  her  belongs  the  homage  of  mortal  fascina- 
tion, while  to  the  tender  dignity  of  tranquil  loveli- 
ness, a  kind  of  devotion  is  offered,  as  to  a  saint  or 
an  angel. 


STANZAS 

TO    MY    LATE   LOVELY   AND    BELOVED    DAUGHTER    CHARLOTTE,     AT    THE 
AGE    OF    FIFTEEN. 


As  round  that  pure  unruffled  stream, 
Which  loves  the  lonely  vale  to  lave, 

More  rich  the  bordering  flowrets  seem, 
Reflected  by  the  lucid  wave  : 

So,  in  the  charms  which  deck  thy  form, 
The  graces  of  thy  soul  we  find  ; 

That  blush,  from  nature's  pencil  warm, 
Is  but  the  bounty  of  thy  mind. 


68 

That  voice,  which  like  the  western  breeze, 
With  balmy  health  and  softness  fraught, 

Each  animated  sense  to  please, — 

Was  from  thy  heavenly  temper  caught. 

And  though  thy  bosom's  sacred  throne, 

The  whiteness  of  the  dove  impart, 
Even  that  the  critic  stern  must  own, 

Is  not  more  faultless  than  thine  heart. 

The  finished  form — the  speaking  eyes, 

To  sense  and  diffidence  are  due, 
While  that  their  brilliant  beam  supplies, 

Erom  this  the  modest  graces  grew. 

No  longer  then  the  lover  train, 

Shall  boast  that  blooming  charms  alone 

Can  with  despotic  empire  reign, 

And  make  the  conquered  soul  their  own : 

But  gazing  on  thy  perfect  face, 

To  all  thy  beauteous  self  resigned, 
Shall  in  that  faithful  mirror  trace 

Each  finer  feature  of  thy  mind. 

107. 

Were  WOMEN  more  tolerant  of  each  other,  they 
would  inevitably  obtain  from  the  best  portion  of  the 
other  sex,  more  individual  regard,  and  higher  person- 
al consideration;  since  remembering  that  the  weak 
and  the  worthless  live  by  expedients,  that  of  de- 
traction is  understood  by  the  man  of  sense  simply  as 
such,  and  of  course,  its  heaviest  weight  usually  re- 
coils upon  the  arm  by  which  it  is  wielded. 


69 


108. 

LOVE,  always  attracted  by  BEAUTY,  feels  and  fol- 
lows its  charm,  even  from  the  palace  to  the  cottage ; 
to  which  last,  he  too  often  comes  like  the  destroying 
angel,  bringing  moral  deformity,  personal  blight,  and 
lasting  repentance;  while,  for  more  elevated  sta- 
tions, the  evil  spirit  of  envy,  hatred,  jealousy  and  de- 
traction is  prepared,  and  reigns  triumphant,  until  the 
fresh  rose  withers,  and  the  poor  heart  is  broken 
down  to  unmerited  adversity. 

109, 

ADVERSITY  thus  appears  the  attendant  on  Beauty, 
severe,  but  instructive :   her  paths  are  not  paths  of 
pleasantness,  but  they  lead  to  peace. 

This  should  reconcile  the  plain  featured,  and  hum- 
ble the  more  perfect,  since  honour  and  happiness 
are  the  goal  and  the  guerdon  of  every  stage  and  sta- 
tion of  human  existence. 

110. 

There  are,  in  our  pilgrimage  upon  this  earth,  afflic- 
tions so  deep,  injuries  so  cruel,  and  destitutions  so 
severe,  that  were  it  not  for  that  religious  TRUST 
in  heaven,  cherished  by  adversity,  assisting  forti- 
tude, and  rewarding  its  endurance,  the  light  of  ev- 
ery passing  day  would  disclose  individual  victims, 
sunk  in  despair,  driven  to  insanity,  or  lost  by  suicide. 

A  TRUST,  derided  by  the  Infidel,  and  neglected  by 
the  many,  yet  probably  tending  to  preserve  the  mor- 
al, mental,  and  animal  existence  of  the  largest  por- 
tion of  the  thinking  world. 


70 

STANZAS    TO 

DISAPPOINTMENT. 


OFFSPRING  OF  EARTH  !  whose  sullen  eye, 
Glooms  with  the  still  increasing  care, 

Why  throw  thy  mad  glance  on  the  sky ! 
Why  court  the  curse  that  hovers  there. 

Whether  of  luckless  love  thy  claim, 

To  chill  the  warm  heart's  passioned  glow, 

Or  under  friendship's  treacherous  name, 
To  strike  the  meditated  blow. 

Or  when  ambition  upward  springs, 
Conscious  of  fortune's  vernal  ray, 

To  clip  the  young  hope's  soaring  wings. 
And  snatch  the  tasted  joy  away : 

Whether  on  lucre's  toiling  train 

Thou  turn  thy  hard  and  heavy  form, 

While  scorn  redoubles  every  pain, 
That  breaks  the  wearied  spirit  down : 

Or  on  retarded  justice  wait, 

Where  slow  Potomack's  waters  roll, 

Assume  the  answering  nod  of  state, 

And  reach  the  GEORGIAN'S  harrowed  soul  :* 


*THE  GEORGIAN. — Intended  to  designate  that  company  of  unfortunate 
citizens,  who  had  been  induced  to  purchase  a  large  tract  of  country  in  the  state 
of  Georgia ;  which  purchase  being  disputed  as  illicit,  or  illegal,  the  suppli- 
cants were  seen  every  season,  returning  from  the  GREAT  CITY  on  the  Poto- 
mack,  to  their  desolate  homes,  unanswered,  and  unrequited — for  the  most 
part  ruined,  ere  partial  redress  was  awarded. 


71 

Still  dreaded,  and  still  dreadful  known, 
Thine  is  the  broad  and  phrenzied  stare ; 

And  thine  the  deep  and  deadly  groan, 
Which  lead  thy  victim  to  despair. 

Has  not  thy  coldly  grasping  fold, 

Strong  as  the  serpent's  venomed  twine, 

Known  this  quick  nerve  of  life  to  hold, 
Till  every  stagnant  pulse  was  thine. 

Though  wide  as  earth  thy  crushing  sway, 
CHILD  OF  THE  WORLD  !  to  that  confined, 

One  heavenly  hope  shall  charm  away 

Thy  wrongs — and  heal  the  suffering  mind. 

Hope,  kind  preserver  !  angel  power, 

Wilt  thou  the  imprisoned  spirit  free  ! 
In  disappointment's  palsying  hour, 

Turn  thy  electric  glance  on  me. 

111. 

o  complain  of  and  FIND  FAULT  with  all,  is  to  confess 
that  we  have  neither  friends  nor  comforts ;  and  fur- 
ther, it  evinces  that  we  do  not  deserve  to  have  them. 

112. 

AVARICE  sharpens  the  senses,  and  blunts  the  un- 
derstanding ;  if  its  wariness  subdue  the  violence  of 
temper,  its  agitations  add  to  fretfulness,  and  increase 
the  coldness  of  suspicion,  even  as  frost  is  found  to 
irritate  ere  it  benumb  the  nerve  of  life ;  and  like 
that,  in  expanding  its  proper  self,  AVARICE  breaks 
and  ruins  all  by  which  it  is  surrounded. 

Who  would  covet  the  golden  hoard  of  AVA- 
RICE, that  considers  the  cost  and  the  sacrifice  ?  the 
passions  it  creates,  the  consolations  it  denies,  the 


72 

blessings  it  annihilates  ;  what  being  is  more  isolated 
than  the  parsimonious,  more  pitiable  than  the  mi- 
serly, or  more  wretched  than  the  usurer,  who  preys 
upon  human  existence  like  the  locust  upon  vegeta- 
ble life,  sparing  neither  the  leaf,  the  blossom,  nor 
the  fruit ;  hence  the  anguish  of  his  many  fears,  the 
sordidness  of  his  few  hopes  ;  even  the  insanity  which 
he  invites  and  invigorates,  hardening  the  heart,  de- 
praving the  moral  mind,  and  contracting  the  mental 
perception  to  a  single  sharp  point  of  over-reaching 
sagacity;  while  in  his  utmost  rapaciousness  he  ap- 
proaches so  near  to  fraud,  that  the  sword  of  DAMO- 
CLES is  seemingly  suspended  by  a  single  hair  over  the 
atrocity  of  intention. 

In  fine,  friendless  and  pining — amid  plenty  exiled 
by  poverty  ;  with  wealth  arrested  by  want,  and  com- 
fort crushed  by  care  ;  a  life  of  disrepute,  and  a  death 
of  destitution — waited  for,  wished  for,  and  at  last  ex- 
ulted in,  are  the  portion,  and  the  punishment,  which 
usually  attend  and  terminate  the  miseries  of  indivi- 
dual AVARICE  ;  while  contempt  or  abhorrence  remains 
engraven  on  the  marble  of  his  memory. 

113. 

"  BENEFITS  ARE  NEVER  LOST,"  according  to  the  Span- 
ish proverb ;  and  surely  there  is  no  moral  that  con* 
tains  more  truth. 

The  most  ungrateful  cannot,  even  by  the  mighti- 
est effort,  forget  the  kindness  bestowed,  nor  the 
benefit  accepted.  The  .very  endeavour  adds  to  the 
impossibility. 

Hence  to  remind  the  offender  by  recurring  to  re- 
proach, were  as  useless  as  unwise,  cancelling  obliga- 


73 

tion,  and  changing  the  indifference  or  distaste  of  his 
already  humiliated  mind,  into  resentment  and  per- 
sonal antipathy. 

If  our  intention  were  truly  generous,  or  really 
compassionate,  the  pleasure  of  that  intention  is  its 
own  reward,  and  on  ourselves  the  BENEFIT  has  not 
been  lost ;  but  wers  the  motive  ostentation  with 
vain  glory,  disappointment  in  the  object  is  a  just  and 
perhaps  inadequate  punishment,  unless  productive  of 
moral  amendment,  when  the  ultimate  benefit  will 
surely  remain* 

Thence  are  the  blessings  of  benefaction  never  lost, 
even  when  they  chance  to  descend  on  the  unwor- 
thy ;  for  reverting  back  to  him  who  has  bestowed, 
the  utility  rests,  and  will  continue  there,  if  he  biing 
home  to  the  question  of  his  own  mind,  the  scrutiny 
of  motive,  the  admonition  of  conscience,  the  lesson 
of  self-knowledge,  and  above  all,  the  moral  feli- 
city of  self-approbation. 

114. 

How  many  virtues,  how  much  talent,  what  beau- 
ty, grace,  refinement  and  benefit,  are  united  with, 
and  linked  together  in  one  chain,  by  the  single  word, 
UTILITY  ? 

Of  virtue  and  of  talent  the  UTILITY  remains  un- 
questioned :  and  yet  are  not  those  features  of  exterior 
beauty,  whose  divine  expression  is  irresistible  as  a 
charm,  that  easy  and  dignified  grace  which  seems 
born  to  command,  and  to  delight,  those  refinements 
that  embellish  existence  ;  are  not  these  also  of  UTIL- 
ITY? next  in  degree  to  virtue,  and  to  talent? 

Are  not  the  moral  tendencies  of  the  lovely  and 
10 


74 

•the  amiable,  to  civilize,  to  conciliate  and  to  harmo- 
nize ?  Is  not  the  object  of  their  influence,  happi- 
ness ?  arid  does  there  not  exist  in  happiness — moral 
arid  mental  happiness — UTILITY  ? 

In  the  fine  and  powerful  touches  of  nature,  and  of 
art — equally  perceptible,  and  alike  forcible  in  the 
mellow  glow  of  evening,  in  the  last  and  best  finish 
of  genius,  in  the  graceful  repose  of  loveliness,  and  in 
the  commanding  eloquence  of  energy  and  of  action  ; 
in  these,  and  in  all,  that  like  these,  attract,  endear 
and  instruct,  there  is  UTILITY.  Even  as  the  beau- 
tiful RELIEVO  of  the  Pedestal,  just  rising  above 
the  lowliness  of  earth,  and  giving  but  the  miniature 
of  events,  bears  and  brings  the  history  and  the  char- 
acter of  glory,  no  less  than  the  lofty  arch  and  the 
sublime  column  of  victory. 

In  fine,  all  that  pleases  in  society,  all  that  warms 
in  affection,  all  that  enriches  in  art,  invigorates  in 
genius,  and  exalts  in  virtue,  is  UTILITY;  enabling  us  to 
endure  the  cruelly  oppressive  burden  of  human  suf- 
fering— even  of  human  life  ;  if  not  remedy,  resource ; 
if  not  happiness,  recreation,  consolation,  serenity  and 
comfort. 

TO  MR.  STUART. 

UPON    SEEING  THOSE  PORTRAITS  WHICH    WERE  PAINTED  BY  HIM  AT  PH*- 
LADELPHIA,  IN  THE    BEGINNING  OH  THE  PRESENT  CENTURY. 


STUART,  THY  PORTRAITS  SPEAK  ! — with  skill  divine 
Round  the  light  graces  flows  the  waving  line  ; 
Expression  in  its  finest  utterance  lives, 
And  a  new  language  to  creation  gives. 


Each  varying  trait  the  gifted  artist  shows, 
Wisdom  majestic  in  his  bending  brows ; 
The  warrior's  open  front,  his  eye  of  fire — 
As  where  the  charms  of  bashful  youth  retire. 
Or  patient,  plodding,  and  with  wealth  content, 
The  man  of  commerce  counts  his  cent  per  cent. 
'Tis  character  that  breathes,  'tis  soul  that  twines 
Round  the  rich  canvass,  traced  in  living  lines. 
Speaks  in  the  face,  as  in  the  form  display'd, 
Warms  in  the  tint,  and  mellows  in  the  shade. 
Those  touching  graces,  and  that  front  sublime, 
Thy  hand  shall  rescue  from  the  spoil  of  time. 
Hence  the  fair  victim  scorns  the  threat'ning  rage. 
And  stealing  step,  of  slow  advancing  age. 
Still  on  her  cheek  the  bright  carnation  blows, 
Her  lip's  deep  blush  its  breathing  sweetness  shows. 
For  like  the  magic  wand,  thy  pencil  gives 
Its  potent  charm,  and  every  feature  lives. 

Even  as  the  powerful  eye's  transcendant  ray, 
Bends  its  soft  glance  and  bids  the  heart  obey. 
Thy  fine  perceptions  flow,  by  heaven  designed, 
To  reach  the  thought,  and  pierce  the  unfolded  mind. 
Through  its  swift  course  the  rapid  feeling  trace, 
And  stamp  the  sovereign  passion  on  the  face. 

Even  one,  by  no  enlivening  grace  arrayed, 
One,  born  to  linger  in  affliction's  shade, 
Hast  thou,  kind  artist,  with  attraction  dressed, 
With  all  that  nature  in  her  soul  expressed. 

Go  on,  and  may  reward  thy  cares  attend ; 
— The  friend  of  genius  must  remain  thy  friend. 
Though  sordid  minds  with  impious  touch  presume, 
To  blend  thy  laurel  with  the  cypress  gloom. 
With  tears  of  grief  its  shining  leaves  to  fade  ; 
Its  fair  hope  withering  in  the  cheerless  shade, 


76 


The  well-earned  meed  of  liberal  praise  deny, 
And  on  thy  talents  gaze  with  dubious  eye* 

GENIUS  is  sorrow's  child — to  want  allied — 
Consoled  by  glory,  and  sustained  by  pride, 
To  souls  sublime  her  richest  wreath  she  owes, 
And  loyes  that  fame  which  kindred  worth  bestows. 


INSCRIPTION, 

FOR   THE   PORTRAIT    OF    FISHER   AMES,    PAINTED    CON  AMORE   B]f 
STUART. 


SUCH  is  THE  MAN  ! — inspired  the  artist  wrought, 
And  reached  with  soaring  mind  his  flight  of  thought 
Then  bid  the  brow's  reflective  calm  declare, 
Majestic  honour  dwells  unquestioned  there. 

Mild  from  that  eye  the  rays  of  kindness  flow, 
Warm  on  those  lips  the  words  of  fervour  glow, 
Yet  with  persuasion's  pensive  charm  appear, 
To  win  the  plaudit  of  a  nation's  tear.* 
SUBLIME  OF  SOUL  !  in  speaking  features  shine, 
Feeling's  fine  flame,  and  eloquence  divine. 

Such  is  the  man ;  beheld,  approached,  approved ! 
Born  to  excel — yet  less  admired  than  loved. 

*  See  his  pathetic  speech  on  the  British  Treaty,  as  published  in  his  wcfks,, 


77 


SONG. 

WRITTEN  AT  u  THE  WOODLANDS,"  THE  SEAT  OF  WILLIAM  HAMILTON,  ESQ. 
UPON    THE   SCHUYLKILL. 


"  How  sweet  through  the  woodlands,"  in  spring's  jocund  hour, 
To  catch  the  first  breeze  which  unfolds  the  wild  flower. 
Adown  the  green  slopes  the  rich  landscape  survey, 
Where  Schuylkill  prolongs  his  meandering  way. 

More  dear  in  that  mansion's  retreat  from  the  plains, 
While  rapture  in  silent  expression  remains. 
To  rest  where  the  arts  and  the  virtues  unite, 
Without,  all  enchantment,  within  all  delight. 

Most  welcome  that  face,  so  benignant  in  smiles, 
That  voice,  which  the  care  of  the  stranger  beguiles. 
Those  graces,  where  genius  combining  the  whole, 
On  the  features  of  nature  imprinted  his  soul. 

All  hail,  ye  fair  scenes !  and  you,  slow  winding  wave, 
AS  unwilling  to  quit  the  fond  banks  that  you  lave. 
Still  heave  your  full  bosom,  where  shining  around, 
The  altar  of  taste  is  with  tenderness  crowned. 


78 


INSCRIPTIONS. 

Intended  for  a  little  Island  upon  the  Schuylkill,  belonging  to  the 
proprietor  of  the  Woodlands ;  at  whose  request  the  following 
were  hastily  written. 


FOR  A  SARCOPHAGUS,    ERECTED  TO  THE    MEMORY  OF    SHENSTONE,. 
BY    WILLIAM    HAMILTON,    ESQ. 


WHILE  curious  art  and  careless  nature  smile, 
Thy  memory,  SHENSTONE,  claims  this  fairy  isle  ; 
Seen  like  a  gem  amid  the  clasping  wave, 
Where  lavish'd  wealth  such  emerald  lustre  gave, 
Thy  muse  demands !  and  kindred  taste  bestows, 
Haunts  where  the  loves  in  shadowy  calm  repose. 
Or  in  the  living  blush  of  beauty  shine, 
On  scenes  as  graced,  and  hearts  as  charmed  as  thine. 
Each  woodland  warbler  seems  his  groves  among, 
To  chaunt  thy  requiem  in  a  richer  song. 
While  thy  enamoured  spirit,  hovering  near, 
Finds  of  thy  life  THE  INSPIRING  GENIUS  here.    s 


INSCRIPTION 

FOR   AN    ARBOUR,    OR   RUSTIC   SEAT    ON    THE   ISLAND. 


STRANGER,  this  green  and  graced  retreat, 
Spreads  all  its  wealth  for  thee, 

Be  thine  the  richly  pictured  scene, 
Hill,  valley,  walk,  and  tree. 


79 

Thine  be  yon  smoothly  winding  stream. 

Whose  silent  waters  move, 
Unruffled  as  a  good  man's  breast, 

Reflecting  heaven  above. 

Or  thine  the  tossing  tide,  so  fond 

Its  golden  curls  to  raise, 
When  touched  by  day's  departing  flame, 

It  sparkling,  seems  to  blaze. 

THINE,  if  by  taste  and  nature  won, 

These  to  thy  glance  appear 
In  all  the  beauties  genius  gave, 

To  plant  attraction  here. 

Hast  thou  a  soul  to  feeling  true, 
Stay,  WANDERER,  nor  depart, 

A  nobler  gift  meets  thy  regard, 
Even  his,  the  PATRON'S  heart. 


PHILADELPHIA, 

AN  ELEGY. 

WRITTEN   AT    THE     MOST     DESOLATING    PERIOD    OF     THE   FATAL   PESTI- 
LENCE  OF   THE   YELLOW    FEVER. 


IMPERIAL  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  WEST, 

Why  thus  in  widowed  weeds  recline  ? 

With  every  gift  of  nature  blest, 
The  empire  of  a  WORLD  was  thine. 

Late,  brighter  than  the  star  that  gleams, 
Ere  the  soft  morning  carol  flows  ; 

Now,  mournful  as  the  maniac's  dreams^ 
When  melancholy  rules  his  woes. 


What  foe,  with  more  than  Gallic*  ire, 
Has  thinned  thy  city's  thronging  way, 

Bid  the  sweet  breath  of  youth  expire, 
And  manhood's  powerful  pulse  decay. 

No  Gallic  foe's  ferocious  band, 
Fearful  as  fate,  as  death  severe, 

But  the  destroying  angel's  hand, 
With  hotter  rage,  with  fiercer  fear. 

I  saw  thee  in  thy  pride  of  days, 

In  glory  rich,  in  beauty  fair, 
When  MORRISJ  partner  of  thy  praise, 

Sustained  thee  with  a  patron's  care : 

Have  hailed  that  hospitable  dome, 
Where  all  the  cultured  virtues  grew, 

Fortune,  and  fashion's  graceful  home, 
Warm  hearted  love,  and  friendship  true. 

Columbia's  genius !  veil  thy  brow, 
Angel  of  mercy !  hither  bend, 

The  prayer  of  misery  meets  thee  now. 
With  healing  energy  descend. 

Chase  the  hot  fiend  whose  SALLOW  tread 
Consumes  the  fairest  flower  that  blows. 

Fades  the  sweet  lilly's  bashful  head, 
,And  blights  the  blushes  of  the  rose* 

Even  now  his  omen'd  birds  of  prey, 
Through  the  unpeopling  mansions  rove, 


*  This  Elegy  was  first  published  during  the  extirpating  reign  of  the  ty- 
rant Robespierre. 

t  The  Honourable  R.  MORRIS,  who  from  the  indiscretion  of  individuals, 
and  by  the  disasters  of  commerce,  was  compelled  to  exchange  the  hospitality 
«f  his  superb  mansion  for  the  dreariness  of  a  prison. 


81 

Have  quenched  the  soft  eye's  hearenly  ray, 
And  closed  the  breezy  lip  of  love. 

Yet  guard  THAT  FRIEND,  who  wandering  near 
Haunts,  which  the  loitering  Schuylkill  laves, 

Bestows  the  tributary  tear, 

Or  fans  with  sighs  the  drowsy  waves. 

And  while  his  mercy-dealing  hand, 

Feeds  many  a  famished  child  of  care, 
Wave  round  his  brow  thy  saving  wand, 

And  breathe  new  freshness  through  the  air. 

While  borne  on  health's  elastic  wing, 

Afar  the  rapid  whirlwind  flies, 
The  bracing  gale  of  Zembla  bring, 

And  bleach  with  frost  the  blackening  skies. 

Where  shelving  to  the  heated  coast, 

With  frowns  the  dusky  piles*  ascend, 
Bid  some  Alcides^  freedom's  boast, 

His  heaven-assisted  arm  extend. 

Beneath  his  firm  collected  blow, 

Wasteful  the  cumbrous  ruin  lies, 
Till  Dryads  bring  each  breathing  bough, 

And  bid  the  green  plantation  rise. 

Thence  the  light  poplar's  tapering  form, 

The  oak  his  building  branches  rears, 
The  elm,  that  braves  the  cleaving  storm, 

The  fragrant  pine's  prolific  tears. 

*  Water  street,  which  in  the  original  plan  of  the  city,  by  its  illustrious  foun- 
der, was  to  have  been  laid  out  in  plantations  of  trees,  with  regular  walks, 
equally  conducive  to  health  and  recreation.  This  benevolent  appropriation 
having  been  anticipated  by  the  speculations  of  avarice,  this  spot,  as  if  in  di- 
vine vengeance,  has  become  the  most  fatal  location  of  the  pestilence, 

II 


82 


While  every  leaf  expands  a  shade, 
Beneath  whose  breeze  contagion  dies., 

Full  many  a  youth  and  blushing  maid, 
Gaze,  grateful,  with  enamoured  eyes. 

He,  who  the  loved  asylum  gave, 

Even  thus  the  PARENT-FOUNDER  said, — 

Now  whispered  from  the  wakening  grave, 
Ah !  heed  the  mandate  of  the  dead. 

And  bid  the  Naiads  bring  their  urns, 
Haste  ! — and  the  marble  fount  unclose, 

Through  streets  where  Syrian  summer  burns,- 
Till  all  the  cool  libation  flows. 

Cool  as  the  brook  that  bathes  the  heath, 
When  noon  unfolds  his  silent  hours, 

Refreshing  as  the  morning's  breath, 
And  genial  as  are  vernal  showers. 

From  waves  the  heavenly  Venus  grew, 
Those  waves  to  mortal  beauty  kind, 

The  flush  of  fragrant  health  renew, 
And  brace  the  nerve-enfeebled  mind. 

IMPERIAL  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  WEST, 
No  rival  wins  thy  wreath  away, 

In  all  the  wealth  of  nature  drest, 
Again  thy  sovereign  charms  display. 

See  all  thy  setting  glories  rise, 

Again  thy  thronging  streets  appear, 

Thy  mart  an  hundred  ports  supplies, 
Thy  harvest  feeds  the  circling  year. 


STANZAS. 


TO  THE  HON.  ROBERT  LISTON,  MINISTER  PLENIPOTENTIARY  FROM  GREAT 
BRITAIN,  UPON  HEARING  HIM  AT  HIS  DEPARTURE,  LAMENT  THAT 
"  AMERICA  HAD  NO  POETS." 


THOUGH  on  Columbia's  bleak  uncultured  shore, 
With  languid  step  the  ungenial  muses  rove, 

'Tis  her's,  the  bounds  of  ocean  to  explore, 
And  with  the  spirit  of  THINE  ALBION  move. 

Though  not  for  her  the  stream  of  science  flow. 

'Tis  her's  the  nobler  virtues  to  command, 
To  seek  the  gems  of  genius  WHERE  they  glow, 

And  deal  her  tribute  with  unsparing  hand. 

/ 
LISTON,  'tis  her's  with  truth's  enamoured  eye, 

Like  a  near  friend,  whom  fortune  dooms  to  part, 
Still  at  thy  name  to  breathe  affections  sigh, 

And  wear  thy  graces  graven  on  her  heart. 

For  thou  hast  wisdom  to  attract  the  wise, 
Temper,  whose  sun-shine  w.th  benignant  ray 

Commands  the  florid  smile  of  joy  to  rise, 
And  bids  the  frowning  storm  of  hate  decay. 

An  empire's  glory  claims  thy  filial  care, 

While  from  thy  dome  the  fiend  of  party  flies, 

For  all  the  amities  inhabit  there, 

And  there  the  spirit  of  contention  dies. 

Still  may  Britannia  on  thy  genius  smile, 

And  still  Columbia's  kindred  voice  approve, 

Rewards  await  thee  from  the  GLORIOUS  ISLE, 

While  younger  nations  crown  them  with  their  love 


115. 

To  receive  and  repay  the  pathetic  appeal  of 
row,  with  the  cold  caution  of  SILENT  RESERVE,  is  im-> 
plied  disregard,  or  intentional  contempt ;  less  kind, 
and  more  comfortless  than  admonition  and  reprimand ; 
for  admonition  and  reprimand,  rooted  in  affection, 
may  grow  into  solicitude,  and  bring  forth  the  fruits  of 
good-will;  but  silence,  cold  and  RESERVED  SILENCE,  re- 
fusing participation,  and  escaping  responsibility,  seem- 
ingly consents  to,  or  is  not  affected  by  the  anguish  of 
the  sufferer. 


BATAVIA, 

.4 JV  ELEGY. 

ffRITTEN     UPON   THE    UNRESISTED    SUBJUGATION    OF   THE   UNITED   PRO- 
VINCES   TO    THE    FRENCH    REVOLUTIONISTS. 


DEGENERATE  RACE,  ye  lost  Batavians,  say, 

Where  is  the  blood  that  warmed  the  patriot's  veins  9 
When  in  your  great  first  William's  glorious  day, 

Invading  armies  fled  the  unconquered  plains  ? 

Where  is  that  spirit  of  vour  hardy  sires. 
Which  turned  indignant  from  a  foreign  lord, 

And  where  that  hope,  a  country's  cause  inspires, 
The  stateman's  virtue,  and  the  warrior's  sword  ? 

The  swarthy  Gaul  now  claims  the  willow'd  meads, 
Where  your  famed  fathers,  patient,  proud  and  poor, 

Stampt  their  bold  annals  with  triumphant  deeds, 
And  learnt  the  trying  lesson  to  endure. 


85 


Ye  sons  of  traffic !  lost  Batavians,  say, 
Does  the  hard  victor  heed  the  captive's  moan, 

Can  the  fierce  wolf  resign  his  trembling  prey, 
Nor  make  the  rich  luxurious  treat  his  own. 

Who  calls  the  shaggy  monarch  of  the  wood, 
To  yield  the  fleecy  fold  his  fostering  care ! 

No  more  to  quench  his  burning  lip  in  blood, 
But  learn  with  tasteless  apathy  to  spare  ? 

Thus  shall  ye  thrive  beneath  the  victor's  sway, 
And  thus  the  fierce  Exotic  guard  your  coast, 

Who  flung  with  careless  hand,  a  prize  away, 
Richer  than  all  your  conquerM  country's  boast. 

Transcendant  FREEDOM,  offspring  of  the  soil, 
Ne'er  can  an  alien's  hand  that  gem  bestow, 

Whose  brilliant  rays  reward  the  patriot's  toil, 
Grace  his  bold  front,  and  on  his  bosom  glow. 


ELEGY. 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MARIE  ANTOINETTE,  THE  UNFORTUNATE  QUEEN  OF 
LOUIS  THE  16TH,  OF  FRANCE. WRITTEN  IMMEDIATELY  UPON  HEAR- 
ING OF  THE  EVENT  OF  HER  DEATH,, 


'Tis  PAST — the  agonizing  pang  is  o'er, 
And  THOU,  fair  faded  shadow  of  a  queen, 

Shalt  bend  that  supplicating  eye  no  more, 
While  spurning  insult  rears  his  ruffian  mien. 

No  more  the  sighing  breeze  of  dawn  shall  bear, 
The  sentenced  murder  to  thy  harrowed  soul, 

^0  more  the  night,  close  curtained  by  despair, 
Bid  the  deep  whelming  flood  of  anguish  roll; 


No  more  remembrance  to  thy  blasted  view, 

Recal  the  morning  of  thy  troubled  day, 
When  hope  around  the  lovely  landscape  threw, 

Spring's  changeless  robe,  and  summer's  cloudless  ray. 

Set  is  thy  star  of  life — the  pausing  storm, 

Turns  its  black  deluge  from  that  wearied  head, 

The  fiends  of  murder  quit  that  bloodless  form, 
And  the  last  animating  hope  is  fled. 

Blest  is  the  hour  of  peace — though  curs'd  the  hand. 

That  snaps  the  thread  of  life's  disastrous  loom, 
Thrice  blest,  the  great  invincible  command, 

Which  deals  the  solace  of  the  slumbering  tomb. 

Let  those  whom  long  adopted  sorrows  own, 
On  whom  the  cruel  strokes  of  fate  descend. 

On  whom  the  happy  race  of  mortals  frown, 
And  stern  affliction  strips  of  many  a  friend : 

Those  who  at  Cynthia's  melancholy  hour, 

While  the  slow  night-clock  knells  its  mournful  sound — 
Have  waked  to  weep,  with  unavailing  power, 

The  cureless  pang  of  many  a  mental  wound : 

Let  the  wrapt  mother,  who,  with  phrenzied  mind, 
Saw  her  last  cherub  feed  the  hungry  tomb — 

Or  her,  whose  heart  its  peerless  lord  resigned, 
And  gave  to  cankering  grief  her  vernal  bloom : 

Let  all  who  fondly  clasp  the  form  of  woe, 
And  boast  that  every  featured  ill  is  theirs, 

On  GALLIA'S  QUEEN  one  patient  hour  bestow, 
And  turn  to  heaven  with  penitence  and  prayers. 

Did'st  THOU,  poor  mourner,  grace  yon  lilied  throne. 

Fair  as  the  youthful  poet's  pictured  dream, 
While  round  thy  days  the  light  of  fortune  shone, 

And  warmed  a  nation  with  its  dazzling  beam  2 


87 


Ah  no— vain  ingrate — nature's  boundless  page, 

On  the  chilled  sense  no  equal  horror  throws- 
Owe  dread  example  blots  a  lettered  age, 

That  scene  abhorred,  a  polished  realm  bestows. 

What  though  affliction's  petrifying  sway, 
Has  bid  thy  heart  its  kindling  pulse  forego. 

Has  torn  of  life  the  vital  hope  away — 
And  left  thee  as  a  monument  of  woe  : 

Yet  call  the  roses  to  thy  faded  cheek, 

With  the  mind's  lustre  light  the  languid  eye, 

Cloathe  the  vex'd  soul  with  resignation  meek, 
And  bid  the  labouring,  lingering  murmur  die. 

Why  should  the  wretch,  upon  whose  visual  orb, 
The  Lord  of  brightness  never  poured  his  ray, 

Repine,  when  darkness  folds  her  nightly  robe? 
At  the  swift  transit  of  the  changeful  day  ? 

Can  the  poor  worm  who  clasps  his  speck  of  earth. 

While  on  his  head  the  crushing  bolt  is  hurl'd, 
Like  yon  bright  offspring  of  celestial  birth, 

Command  the  plaudit  of  a  pitying  world  ? 

Say,  wert  thou  sent  to  fill  this  stormy  scene, 
Freed  from  the  icy  touch  of  withering  care  ? — 

Then  think  of  loyal  Gallia's  worship'd  Queen, 
And  learn  thy  little  drop  of  woe  to  bear. 

Ah  then,  thou  selfish  mourner,  cease  to  grieve, 
If  to  thine  heart  one  orphan  hope  remain, 

With  grateful  lip  the  precious  boon  receive, 
As  the  sweet  solace  for  a  world  of  pain. 


116. 

HYPERBOLE  is  a  language  of  inflated  words,  rooted 
in,  and  growing  from  the  union  of  impetuous  feeling 
with  shallow  understanding — mighty  of  utterance, 
few  and  feeble  in  ideas.  A  skeleton  figure,  tricked 
out  in  gorgeous  apparel — a  vapoury  cloud,  which 
the  ignorant  mistake,  and  admire,  and  embrace  as  a 
goddess.  A  thing  of  passion  and  presumption,  which 
usually  adhering  to  narrowness  of  mind,  is  the  true 
offspring  of  violence  and  vanity. 

Unlike  the  simple  eloquence  of  plain  good  sense, 
and  inspired  genius,  which  in  the  clear  sun-shine  of 
mental  elevation,  is  seen  by  every  eye,  and  compre- 
hended by  every  capacity ;  for  that  simple  elo- 
quence is  the  language  of  truth,  evident  and  pure, 
and  powerful  as  the  language  of  nature,  easy  of  ex- 
pression, and  sublime  in  conception. 

HYPERBOLE,  forced  and  factitious,  may  astonish  the 
foolish,  but  can  never  impose  on  the  wise.  It  search- 
es, and  contrives  and  agitates,  and  ends  in  absur- 
dity— while  striving  by  the  glitter  of  profusion  to  hide 
the  poverty  of  nature,  it  serves  like  the  sculptured 
marble  of  the  sepulchre,  but  to  remind  us  of  the 
defects  and  hollo wriess  within. 

And  yet  it  may  be  insisted  that  uncivilized  na- 
tions in  their  earliest  compositions  either  of  prose  or 
verse,  have  usually  been  given  to  Hyperbole. 

Animation  of  feeling,  rudeness  of  propensity,  and 
violence  of  passion,  leading  to  strength  of  expres- 
sion and  extravagance  of  metaphor  ;  these,  accompa- 
nied by  that  simple  music,  which  is,  in  its  origin,  the 


89 

only  language  of  universal  nature,  were  made  to  give 
form  and  attach  character  to  the  untutored  senti- 
ment ;  at  the  same  time  transmitting  not  an  uninter- 
esting contrast  to  the  very  tame  and  exceedingly  pol- 
ished productions  of  other  times ;  in  some  instances, 
even  extending  their  influence  to  the  matured  im- 
provements, or  cultivated  taste  of  the  lettered  world. 

Thence  it  will  be  understood,  that  in  delineating 
the  Hyperbolical,  as  the  grotesque,  no  feature  has 
been  borrowed  from  the  wood  and  the  wild — but 
the  likeness  is  rather  that  of  those  tutored  and  tortur- 
ed compositions  of  prose  run  mad,  or  of  poetry  which 
neither  runs  nor  rises,  but  is  seen  stalking  on  stilts, 
or  sinking  to  the  very  fountain,  or  rather  the  pool, 
not  of  Helicon,  but  of  oblivion. 

Should  this  be  retorted  upon  the  author's  self,  in 
the  very  words  of  the  prophetic  Nathan  to  the  un- 
conscious king;  then,  as  even  now,  would  she  feel 
and  assert,  the  immutability  of  truth,  the  simplicity 
of  GENIUS. 


SONG  OF  THE  RUNIC  BARD.* 

THE     POWER    OF    MUSIC    IS    THUS    HYPERBOLICALLY    COMMEMORATED    BY 
ONE    OF    THE    RUNIC    BARDS. 


"  I  KNOW  A  SONG — by  which  I  soften  and  enchant 
the  arms  of  my  enemies,  and  render  their  weapons 
of  no  eifect." 

*  See  Godwin's  life  of  Chaucer. 

12 


90 

"  I  KNOW  A  SONG— which  I  need  only  to  sing  when 
men  have  loaded  me  with  bonds ;  for  the  moment  I 
sing  it,  my  chains  fall  in  pieces,  and  I  walk  forth  in 
liberty." 

"  I  KNOW  A  SONG — useful  to  all  mankind  ;  for  as 
soon  as  hatred  inflames  the  sons  of  men,  the  mo- 
ment I  sing  it,  they  are  appeased." 

"  I  KNOW  A  SONG — of  such  virtue,  that  were  I 
caught  in  a  storm,  I  can  hush  the  winds,  and  render 
the  air  perfectly  calm." 

IMITATION, 

IN   ENGLISH    VERSE,    OF   THE   SONG    OF   THE   RUNIC    BAUD. 


"  I  KNOW  A  SONG" — the  magic  of  whose  power, 
Can  save  the  warrior  in  destruction's  hour ; 
From  the  fierce  foe  his  falling  vengeance  charm, 
And  wrest  the  weapon  from  his  nervous  arm. 

2d. 

I  KNOW  A  SONG,  which  when  in  bonds  I  lay, 
Broke  from  the  grinding  chain  its  links  away, 
While  the  sweet  notes  their  swelling  numbers  rollM, 
Back  fly  the  bolts,  the  trembling  gates  unfold, 
Free  as  the  breeze  the  elastic  limbs  advance, 
Course  the  far  field,  or  braid  the  enlivening  dance. 

3d. 

I  KNOW  A  SONG,  to  mend  the  heart  designed, 
Quenching  the  fiery  passions  of  mankind  ; 
When  lurking  rage,  and  deadly  hate  combine, 
To  charm  the  serpent  of  revenge,  is  mine. 


91 


4th. 

I  KNOW  A  SONG,  that  when  the  wild  winds  blow, 

To  bend  the  monarchs  of  the  forest  low, 

If  to  the  lay  my  warbling  voice  incline, 

Waking  the  varied  tones  with  skill  divine ; 

Hushed  are  the  gales,  the  spirit  of  the  storm 

Calms  his  bleak  breath,  and  smooths  his  furrowed  form3 

The  day  looks  up,  the  moistened  hills  serene, 

Through  the  faint  clouds  exalt  their  sparkling  green. 


117. 

ANGER,  in  its  indulgence,  may  be  classed  among 
the  most  disgraceful  and  distressing  of  human  infirn> 
ities. 

Disgraceful,  because  it  renders  an  individual  ri- 
diculous, causing  convulsion  of  body,  and  bringing  dis- 
tortion of  countenance,  not  unlike  those  brutes  of  the 
Ape  and  Monkey  tribe,  Avhich  are  capable  of  imi- 
tating man  but  in  his  deformities. 

Distressing,  because  its  gratification  is  horrible, 
its  mischief  incalculable,  and  its  repentance  of  no 
avail. 

118. 

ANGER  IN  ITS  FURY,  displays  the  tyger's  heart  with- 
out the  tyger's  necessities,  and  as  even  more  cruel 
than  that  animal,  the  angry  man  not  unfrequently 
turns  upon  his  mate  and  her  young. 

The  propensity  to  violence  of  every  sort,  may  be 
born  with  a  man,  but,  provided  a  sound  mind,  and  a 
kind  heart,  or  the  mere  power  of  reflection  be  his, 
this  violence,  like  most  of  the  diseases  to  which  mor- 


92 

tal  life  is  liable,  may,  by  firmness  and  regularity,  be 
rooted  out  of  the  constitution ;  since  health  of  mind, 
a  blessing  more  essential  to  human  felicity  than 
health  of  body,  is  equally  acquirable  by  temperance, 
resolution,  and  self-controul. 

The  young  and  attractive  are  cautioned  against 
the  indulgence  of  angry  feelings,  as  no  less  destruc- 
tive of  personal  than  of  moral  beauty,  for  the  always 
lovely,  are  modest,  gentle,  tender  and  placable. 

To  give  ascendency  to  the  furious  passions,  is 
the  seeming  infatuation  of  folly,  and  to  be  extenuated 
only  by  that  deficiency  ; — passions,  which  in  their  ire 
are  found  to  controul  and  contract,  until  they  annihi- 
late the  finer  capacities ;  for  the  profound  thought 
of  an  enlarged  understanding  is  incompatible  with 
the  interrupting  emotions  of  irascibility. 

The  words  of  kindness,  like  the  laws  of  kindness, 
are  temperate,  refined,  sensible  and  true ;  while 
the  hot  desert  of  a  ferocious  mind,  is  like  that  of  the 
desolate  Arabia,  not  only  the  abode  of  brute  violence, 
but  in  having  neither  flowers  nor  fruits,  nor  kindly 
gifts,  nor  proper  possession,  save  the  striking  fire- 
blast*  and  the  sudden  vehemence  of  terrible  calamity. 

Yet  the  constitutional  infirmity  of  ANGER  has  its 
remedy,  and  that  remedy  its  rewards  :  this  sure  rem- 
edy, and  those  certain  rewards,  if  more  easily  acquir- 
ed by  the  young,  are  not  unattainable  at  any  period 
of  human  existence. 


*  Samiek,  or  Samown,  or  Harroun,  the  burning  night  wind  of  the  desert, 
dangerous  to  life,  from  its  infectious  odours,  and  fatal,  in  suddenly  lifting  the 
sands  and  burying  whole  caravans.  Blows  from  June  to  21st  September. 


93 

Let  the  man  of  letters  at  the  first  approach  of 
the  enemy,  silently  recal  to  his  secret  mind,  one 
among  the  many  Greek  and  Latin  sentences  with 
which  his  memory  is  enriched;  the  pious,  his  pray- 
er, a  short  one ;  the  fanciful,  his  verse  ;  the  child 
his  alphabet ;  and  even  the  most  illiterate  may  nu- 
merically count  and  recount,  until  the  tormentor  is 
no  longer  felt  by  him,  nor  perceptible  to  others. 

ODE 

FOR  THE  ELEMENT  OF  FIRE. 

COMPOSED   AT   THE   REQUEST    OF   THE   CHARITABLE   FIRE   SOCIETY,  ANIV 
PERFORMED    AT    KING?S    CHAPEL,    BOSTON. 


KIND  is  THE  GIFT  OF  FIRE  !  whose  power 
Man,  with  restraining  art,  shall  guide ; 
Friend  of  his  dear  domestic  hour, 
To  all  his  bosom'd  joys  allied  ; 
While  round  his  heart,  with  sparkling  ray, 
It  cheers  the  shivering  stranger's  dreary  way. 

Nor  to  the  social  scene  alone, 

Does  the  bright  element  belong, 
Hence  science  claims  her  radiant  throne, 
And  bears  her  world  of  thought  along : 
And  hence  mechanic  arts  arise, 
Inventive,  useful,  beautiful,  and  wise. 

And  as  to  man's  imperial  kind 

Alone  the  charm  of  speech  was  given. 
Alone  the  clear,  perceptive  mind, 
An  image  of  reflected  heaven; 
He  dares  with  ruling  hand  aspire, 
To  wake  and  win  the  slumbering  life  of  FIRE* 


94 

Vet  should,  with  wild  unlicensed  sway, 

The  subject  flame  rebellious  soar, 
No  more  that  ruling  hand  obey — 

Friend  of  the  social  scene  no  more ; 
Wide  breaking  with  disastrous  light, 
Portentous  on  the  curtain'd  calm  of  night : 

Around  the  wealth  embellished  dome, 

Bloodless  the  red  destroyer  flies ; 
Nor  spares  the  poor  man's  wedded  home, 
Nor  heeds  the  phrenzied  parent's  cries. 
Though  on  her  wakening  senses  steal, 
All  that  a  mother's  suffering  heart  can  feel. 

To  soothe — to  save — still  hovering  near, 

RICH  CHARITY  !  thy  cares  extend, 
With  kind,  consolatory  tear, 

And  voice,  like  pitying  heaven,  descend 
And  help  the  helpless — and  impart 
Love  that  rewards — and  hope  that  heals  the  heart. 

119. 

They  who  rest  on  EXPECTATION,  may  be  said  to 
build  upon  the  quicksands,  without  foundation  and 
without  stability. 

To  indulge  in  EXPECTATION,  is  to  prefer  uncertain- 
ty, and  invite  disappointment. 

The  present  day  is  ours,  and  its  enjoyments  are 
perhaps  something,  and  that  something  our  own; 
but  the  morrow  is  to  us  a  non-entity,  which  exists  in 
imagination  only ;  a  thing  of  promise,  without  pur- 
pose, of  empty  hope,  and  doubtful  performance  ;  a 
dream,  a  deception,  a  broken  staff — on  which  to  lean 
were  probably  to  fall. 


95 

The  fraudulent  debtor  says,  "  I  will  pay  on  the 
morrow,"  and  that  night  his  soul  is  required  of  him. 

Good  intention  is  the  desire,  but  it  is  not  the  ac- 
tion, nor  has  it  the  utility  of  virtue,  for  intention  is 
merely  a  perspective,  without  possession ;  virtue,  a 
home  and  a  heritage,  where  peace  is,  and  the  pas- 
sions— in  their  violence — are  not. 

120. 

The  very  foolish  are  sometimes  seen  resorting  to 
DUPLICITY,  in  the  hope  to  over-reach,  or  the  desire 
to  overthrow ;  but  in  vain,  for  imbecility  may  en- 
deavour to  try  on  the  cloak  of  deception,  but  it  will 
not  fit,  and  cannot  be  so  drawn  round,  as  to  conceal 
her  defects ;  simplicity  being  the  true  shield  of  the 
weak,  and  the  real  armour  of  the  wise. 

121. 

Whom  we  consent  to  TRUST,  we  are  willing  to  be- 
lieve true.  Yet  the  trusted  can  betray ;  TRUTH  may 
turn  to  falsehood,  and  the  violation  of  principle  be 
followed  by  the  outrage  of  expression.  Does  justice, 
or  will  judgment  allow  the  resort  of  RECRIMINATION  ? 
do  these  give  permission  to  tread  the  crooked  path, 
which  leads  to  misconduct,  because  another,  break- 
ing down  the  land-mark,  has  trespassed  on  right,  and 
entered  on  wrong? 

If  indignation  be  not  serene,  neither  is  it  essen- 
tially severe,  but  often,  by  self-subduing  quiet,  con- 
verts the  persecutor  into  the  proselyte  ;  while  RE- 
CRIMINATION, confounding  the  innocent  with  the  guilty, 


frequently  occasions  the  much  wronged  to  be  mista- 
ken for  the  most  wrong. 

The  man  who  professes  TRUTH,  and  abuses  TRUST, 
teaches  a  lesson,  enforcing  a  precept,  which  it  were 
better  for  the  injured  to  study,  and  beware  how  he 
confides. 

Finally,  as  it  is  more  difficult  to  compromise  a 
falsehood,  than  to  retrieve  an  error,  it  is  easier  to 
submit  than  to  contend ;  more  proper  to  excuse, 
than  to  accuse  ;  and  better,  even  for  our  own  self- 
ish hearts,  mentally  to  endure,  than  orally  to  assail ; 
for  conscience  will  speak,  when  detection  frowns ; 
and  the  swift  arrows  of  punishment  be  ready,  in 
their  flight,  to  descend  on  the  violation  of  TRUST. 
with  the  RECRIMINATION  of  injury. 


PARADOXES. 


NECESSITY. 

PARADOX  L 

UMEROUS  are  the  pretences  of  NECESSITY — few  its 
legitimate  claims. 

Whims,  fancies,  and  passions,  all  bring  the  plea  of 
necessity :  Not  a  perversity  of  will,  not  a  propen- 
sity of  vice,  but  assumes  the  sanction  of  that  name, 
or  imposes  upon  that  its  lawless  apology  ;  while,  dep- 
recated and  calumniated,  real  necessity  exists  but  for 
virtue,  and  for  want. 

For  Virtue  of  Necessity,  for  want  by  Necessity  ; — 
the  one  divine  and  durable,  the  other,  miserable  and 
mortal ;  this  bound  to  earth  and  suffering — that  soar- 
ing to  happiness  and  heaven. 

NECESSITY  is  a  gift,  and  her  visitations  are  benefits  ; 
for  they  bring  reflection,  and  we  rest ;  repentance, 
and  we  reform.  Also  the  consolations  of  hope  come 
by  necessity,  and  we  are  comforted. 

Even  amid  the  grievous   realities  of  human  life, 
by  her  recollections,  and  through  her  precepts,  we 
are  peaceful,  undisturbed  and  resigned. 
13 


The  frowns  of  fortune,  the  injustice  of  calunmy, 
the  treason  of  friendship,  what  are  they  but  thorns, 
and  briars,  which  can  vex  and  weary  -and  annoy  our 
path,  but  cannot  arrest  its  course  to  felicity,  which, 
provided  we  turn  not  aside,  in  deviation  from  the 
right  and  straight  road,  must,  even  of  NECESSITY,  be 
our  own. 


ERRING  MORTALS. 

PARADOX  II. 

I  think  it  was  DEAN  SWIFT — believing  himself  ca- 
lumniated— who  observed,  that  the  very  best  peo- 
ple he  had  ever  known,  were  among  the  vilified. 

This  admitted,  it  is  no  less  true,  that  the  reviled 
are  usually  some  way  in  the  wrong ;  and  since  wrong 
can  never  be  right,  the  solecism  of  this  Paradox 
invites  explanation. 

If  mistake  and  imprudence  call  down  imputation, 
regret  and  repentance  bring  humility ;  while  enmi- 
ty powerful  enmity,  in  terrifying,  controlling  and 
subduing,  reforms  its  victim  ;  thence  the  deportment, 
the  disposition,  and  the  heart,  are  softened,  refined, 
and  purified ;  the  graces  appear,  the  affections  are 
attracted,  and  moral  good  is  born,  and  it  grows  out 
of  mental  evil. 

Thus  disciplined,  even  the  vilified  may  possibly  be 
classed  among  the  best  of  ERRING  MORTALS. 


09 
LOVE  AND  GLORY. 

PARADOX  111. 

Ardent  LOVE  is  violent — violent  LOVE,  credulous — 
credulous  LOVE,  devoted — devoted  LOVE,  idolatry  ; 
and  idolatry,  confessedly,  either  foolishness  or  insan- 
ity ;  hence,  as  of  course,  it  follows,  that  every  ar- 
dent lover  is  a  lunatic,  or  an  idiot. 

And,  in  what  are  the  CONQUERORS  OF  REALMS  bet- 
ter than  the  CONQUERORS  OF  HEARTS?  counting  from 
the  madman  of  Macedonia,  to  the  equally  mad  and 
more  foolish  Swede  ;*  from  Corsica's  weak  king 
Theodore,  perishing  in  the  Fleet  prison,  to  the  mad 
Corsican-born  Emperor  Napoleon,  dying  in  the  for- 
tress of  St.  Helena. 

All  passion,  and  most  propensities,  indulged  and 
identified,  reach  the  brain,  until  touching  the  narrow 
brink  of  distraction,  they  are  precipitated  down  the 
broad  abyss  of  destruction. 

Such  is  the  quick  step  and  final  march  of  the  pas- 
sions, controlling  and  compelling  LOVE  AND  GLORY,  be- 
gun in  vapour,  and  ending  in  fire  ;  passing  from  weak- 
ness to  violence  ;  sinking  from  violence  to  vileness  ; 
and  from  vileness  to  nothing ;  where  it  rests  and  is 
trodden  down  with  the  other  dust  of  the  earth. 

*  «  From  Macedonia's  madman  to  the  Swede? 


100 


ZEAL. 

PARADOX  IV. 

ZEAL  is  not  a  vice  of  the  soul,  but  like  every  vio- 
lence of  the  mind,  an  error  in  judgment,  an  indeco- 
rum of  conduct,  an  endeavour  after  much  admira^ 
tion  and  more  influence,  by  which  the  zealot  en- 
dangers the  entire  loss  of  those,  and  of  himself  also. 

The  extravagance  of  ZEAL  tends  to  prostrate  the 
calm  dignity  of  principle.  In  devotion,  it  assumes 
the  wild  features  of  pagan  idolatry  ;  derogating  from 
the  tranquil  benevolence  of  Christian  precept.  In 
every  way,  and  at  best,  zeal  is  but  a  superfluity  of 
feeling,  if  not  an  excess  of  passion  ;  and,  where  it  act- 
ually does  not  harm,  will  be  found  to  improve  nei- 
ther the  manners  nor  the  morals. 

The  virtues  of  faith,  charity,  and  even  hope  itself, 
will  shine  brighter,  and  appear  more  graceful,  un- 
der that  kind  serenity  of  temper,  and  that  wise  mod- 
eration of  mind  which  the  domination  of  ZEAL  refu- 
ses ;  but  which  the  meek  and  modest  sensibilities  ob- 
serve and  which  fail  not  to  render  their  possessor 
lonely  or  beloved. 


101 
QUIET. 

PARADOX.  V. 

MAN  calls  for  QUIET,  and  is  clamorous  for  its  com- 
forts ;  when  he  simply  desires  rest  and  invites  re- 
covery ;  even  as  he  invokes  solitude,  when  his  only 
wish  is  release  and  relief,  since  all  agree  that  it  is 
not  good  to  live  alone  ! 

If  by  QUIET,  we  mean  stillness  and  silence,  these 
are  what  no  wakeful  man  could  endure,  even  for  a 
few  short  days,  unless  he  were  deprived  of  two  of  his 
senses,  and  all  his  energies. 

In  the  deepest  recesses  of  uncultivated  nature,  we 
have  the  motion  of  the  leaves  and  the  waves,  and 
the  notes  of  the  wild  bird :  man  must  himself  be  in 
motion,  and  emotion  also,  or  he  dwells  with  misery ; 
he  must  speak,  and  he  must  listen ;  for  he  lives  and 
loves  and  enjoys,  only  when  he  ceases  to  rest,  and 
is  no  longer  QUIET. 

Unbroken  QUIET  is  the  signal  of  death ;  and  the 
constitutionally  silent  and  still  have  apparently  les$ 
of  life,  either  in  its  pains  or  its  pleasures,  than  the 
remainder  of  their  species. 

If  happiness  flee  from  cities,  she  is  equally  averse 
to  caves — happiness,  which  belongs  to  no  extreme, 
and  endures  no  excess.  If  her  dwelling  be  upon 
earth,  it  is  with  the  active,  the  useful,  the  beneficent 
and  the  tranquil ;  who  neither  rust  in  the  quiet  of 
unbroken  seclusion,  nor  irritate  under  the  noise  and 
tumult  of  worldly  dissipation. 


102 
LOVE  OF  COUNTRY. 

PARADOX  VI. 

LOVE  OF  COUNTRY,  is,  in  the  abstract,  usually  class- 
ed among  the  first  duties  and  the  highest  principles; 
but  rather  does  it  seem  a  moral  necessity,  reversing 
the  order  of  nature,  since  this  love  does  not  posi- 
tively result  from  the  associations  of  beauty,  of  cul- 
tivations, of  comforts,  or  of  protection;  for  the 
more  perilous  or  bleak,  or  steril,  or  severe,  are  the 
climate,  the  soil  and  the  government,  the  more  ir- 
resistible is  often  the  enthusiastic  attachment  of  the 
individual  to  his  birth  place. 

Do  the  fatal  eruptions,  and  the  burning  lava  of 
Etna,  or  Vesuvius,  keep  the  son  of  the  soil  from  be- 
lieving that  he  inhabits  the  paradise  of  earth  ? 

Do  the  rude  and  stormy  mountains  of  Switzer- 
land^ with  the  privations  they  impose,  render  the 
brown  and  steril  steeps  less  dear  to  the  hardy  land 
or  roc&-holder,  who,  if  starved  into  exile,  sickens  and 
dies,  in  recurring  and  recalling  to  his  soul  the  sim- 
ple melody  of  his  beloved  and  prohibited  "  Ranz 
Des  Vaches"  The  Hollander,  arresting  the  soil 
from  the  Ocean,  and  himself  growing  amid  fens, 
and  breathing  the  contagion  of  canals,  imitates  and 
carries  his  native  scene  to  whatever  spot  he  inhab- 
its, as  if  in  love  with  dampness  and  stagnation. 

Even  the  poor  slave  of  Africa,  although  not  less  a 
slave  beneath  his  own  burning  sun,  is  seen  to  repine 
and  perish  by  the  hand  of  suicide,  in  the  thought- 


103 

and  under  the  hope,  of  once  more  visiting  the  desert 
sands,  and  again  encountering  the  perils  of  his  long 
lost  home. 

The  result  is,  that  man  is  not  merely  a  social  ani- 
mal, but  also  an  affectionate  being,  deriving  his  best 
happiness  from  his  first  remembrances ;  from  the 
innocent  pleasures  of  infancy,  and  the  caresses  of 
maternal  love ;  and  it  is  living  affinities,  not  proper 
location ;  the  blessed  hilarities  of  childhood,  not  the 
strength  of  maturity,  that,  in  effect,  constitute  LOVE 
OF  COUNTRY,  and  which  in  leaving,  the  wanderer 
mourns  and  dies  to  regain;  even  those  affinities  and 
affections,  which,  born  with  the  breath  of  existence, 
concentrate  under  hardship  and  in  adversity,  and  are 
neither  selfish  nor  solitary  ;  for  ere  civilized  or  sav- 
age man  be  capable  of  alienating  these  from  hi* 
heart,  that  heart  must  chill,  and  harden  and  petrify, 
rendering  him  no  less  the  unnatural  tormentor  of 
himself,  than  the  unfeeling  enemy  of  his  kind. 


ODES  TO  TIME. 

ODE  1. 


POWER    OF   THE   SWEEPING    WING.! 

And  wasting  sand ! 
Lord  of  the  healing  breath ! 

And  spoiling  hand  ! 
Whose  lengthened  fingers  fling 
The  viewless  shafts  of  death ! 
Beneath  whose  tread  the  crumbling  marble  lies, 
From  whose  vast  hoard  unbounded  empires  rise  : 

Yet  rise  to  fall ! 
While  to  thy  sway  and  thee 
The  sometime  victor  bends  his  conquered  knee, 
And  feels  his  palsied  heart  obey  thy  call ; 
Whose  grasp  can  shake  the  tyrant  from  his  throne, 
And  from  his  withering  temples  snatch  the  tarnished  crown. 

MAGICIAN  !  whom  all  arts  obey, 

Now  from  thy  wand  is  ruin  hurled, 
Now  a  rude  outlaw  gains  imperial  sway, 

And  a  walled  acre  (1)  awes  the  subject  world. 
Thy  talisman  could  Egypt's  pillars  bow, 
From  their  broad  base  her  pyramids  shall  throw, 
While  all  her  faded  laurels  shade  thy  brow. 

*  These  Odes,  with  trifling  alterations,  are  reprinted  from  a  former  public 
cation  :  being  first  written  during  the  presidency  of  the  now  retired  patriot, 
John  Adams. 


14 


106 

EGYPT  !  from  whom  immortal  hope  (2)  arose, 

Beneath  whose  orient  ray, 
Celestial  science  met  the  eye  of  day — 
Where  bursting  wisdom  dawned  its  earliest  beam, 
Ere  on  the  margin  of  her  worshipped  stream 
Like  a  new  God  the  young  PAPYRUS  grew, 
And  taught  instructed  realms  to  lift  the  adoring 
While  all  the  arts  on  his  smooth  breast  repose ! 
Egypt,  where  Alexander  sleeps  in  dust, 
Where  great  Sesotris  (3)  rears  his  trophied  bust, 
A  mouldering  pageant  and  an  empty  name  ; 
While  the  barbarian  Turk  her  meads  deflowers, 
And  the  wild  Arab  mocks  her  murdered  powers  ; 
Assisting  thee  to  blast  her  fading  fame  : 
No  more  Osiris  (4)  guards  those  wasted  plains, 
No  pean'd  Isis  (5)  strews  the  golden  grains ! 

Proud  Xerxes  wept  to  find 

That,  ere  one  fleeting  century  sunned  mankind, 
His  million  heroes  to  thy  power  must  bow  : 
Vain  man !  with  all  thy  treasured  radiance  shine, 
Nerved  with  majestic  strength^-and  graced  with  charms 

divine. 

For  the  rough  sea  thy  bonds  prepare — 
Bid  thy  frail  vassals  lash  the  angry  air — 
While  thy  delusive  moments  flow — 
And  the  great  conqueror  arrests  thy  care, 
Nor  will  his  lifted  ecythe  those  vaunted  honors  spare  ! 
Where  is  Palmyra's  boast ! 
Where  tower'd  Zenobia's  dome  ! 
Where  the  Chaldean,  Syrian^  Grecian  host! 
Or  where  thy  glorious  freedom,  LAURELLED  ROME  ? 
Ask  their  great  founder,  Time — 

Whose  plastic  hand, 
Where  ignorance  led  his  vagrant  band, 
In  some  unlettered  clime. 


107 


Now  bids  the  marble  of  the  palace  rise, 
With  glittering  turrets  to  the  bending  skies, 
Adorned  with  infant  arts  aspiring  to  their  prime. 
Even  thus  Columbia,  o'er  whose  growing  plains, 
Chief  of  her  choice,  her  GREAT  CIVILIAN  (6)  reigns ; 
Of  guiding  genius,  and  controlling  hand, 
Firm  to  resolve,  and  gentle  to  command : 
DECIDED  PATRIOT  !  Time  for  thee  prepares 
A  crown,  uncankered  by  the  rust  of  years ; 
Haloed  by  stars,  whose  varying  rays  entwine ; 
The  gift  is  glory,  but  the  grace  is  thine. 
While  withering  millions  on  far  Europe's  shore 
Gaze  on  thy  rights,  and  all  their  wrongs  deplore  ; 
From  thee  shall  time  the  lettered  precept  give, 
Instruction  flow — they  drink  the  stream  and  live. 

O  VIRTUE  !  sovereign  of  the  gifted  mind, 
Though  erring  mortals  may  reject  thy  sway, 
Those  loved  of  heaven,  the  noblest  of  their  kind, 
Are  thine,  and  thine  the  light  that  leads  their  way. 
Opening  on  life's  drear  shades  a  MORNING  RAY, — 
Thee  shall  all  ruling  TIME  himself  obey ! 


SECOND  ODE  TO  TIME. 


SIRE  OF  THE  SILVER  LOCKS  !  to  whom 
Creation's  crowding  myriads  come  ! 
With  pleading  eye,  and  pouring  tear, 
Besieging  oft  thy  heedless  ear ; 
With  adulation  bending  low, 
And  smoothing  o'er  thy  furrowed  brow ; 
While  senseless  age,  with  bleachened  hairs, 
Demands  a  lengthened  lease  of  years, 
From  thee,  flushed  hectic  looks  for  health, 
From  thee,  pale  avarice  grasps  at  wealth, 
From  thee  ambition  dreams  of  boundless  power ; 


I 


108 

The  prisoner  waits  thy  aid  to  set  him  free, 
The  Chymist  yields  his  crucible  to  thee  ; 
And  on  thy  wings  the  Poet  hopes  to  soar. 
Even  I,  my  vain  petition  raise, 
In  all  the  melody  of  praise — 
But  not  for  wealth,  nor  power,  nor  fame, 
Would  invocate  thy  fearful  name : 
Let  wealth  his  joyless  nothings  keep— 
Ambition  gain  his  world — and  weep. — 
And  on  the  chymist  may'st  thou  pour 
Like  fabled  J  ove,  a  golden  shower  : 
Still  may  the  pining  prisoner  find, 
A  Howard's  cares  have  made  thee  kind. 

Nor  would  the  lowly  muse  implore, 

Thy  latest,  best  regard, 
Since  from  her  grief-consoling  power, 

Ascends  each  wished  reward ; 
But  ah  !  thy  sharpest  scythe  display, 
To  sweep  this  shadowy  form  away, 
Ere  cold  the  narrowing  mind  appear, 
And  closed  the  portals  of  the  ear : 
Ere  age  shall  every  glance  controul, 
That  speaks  the  language  of  the  soul : 
Or  even  one  anguish'd  sense  depart, 
Which  rends  the  concave  of  the  heart. 
Which  bids  each  suffering  fibre  glow, 

To  agony's  excess, 
Or  gives  this  raptured  breast  to  know 

Reflected  happiness. 
Ah !  yet  the  sweeping  scythe  display, 
Ere  these    full  locks  have  turned  to  grey  -f 
Ere  this  slight  form  to  thee  shall  bend, 
O  let  me  to  the  tomb  descend ! 
Then  memory  shall  delight  to  trace, 
Some  cherished  worth,  some  fancied  grace. 


109 


While  bending  o'er  the  slumbering  clay, 

Each  conscious  foible  fades  away. 

There  oft  shall  friendship's  gentle  form  be  found, 
Heaving  from  breast  of  down  the  sacred  sigh, 
And  fondly  spelling  out  the  piteous  tale, 
There  shall  chaste  love  his  earliest  woes  bewail, 
To  the  cold  marble  cling  with  burning  eye, 

Or  wear  with  pilgrim-knee  the  insensate  ground- 
So  may  fresh  laurels  deck  thy  faded  brow, 
So  may  new  realms  thy  ravaged  fields  adorn : 
O'er  the  dead  desert  living  streamlets  flow, 
And  hope  with  carol'd  hymn  invite  the  morn : 

So  may  thine  age  regain  its  golden  prime, 
When  the  charmed  minstrel  graced  the  monarch's  board, 
And  with  the  lamb  reclined  the  forest's  lord,* 
While  war's  red  triumphs  from  creation  hurled, 
Peace  leans  enamoured  o'er  the  awakened  world, 

And  not  a  tear-drop  shames  the  eye  of  TIME. 

*  "  The  Lion  shall  lie  down  with  the  Lamb." 


PART  II. 


THE 


etf ot i*  an*  1*0 


"  All  that  the  Mind  can  suffer, — 

"  The  Mind  properly  armed,  can  repel.v 


THE 


_t>  Y  THE  WORLD,  is  usually  understood  that  con- 
tracted circle  of  human  beings,  whose  identity  we 
recollect  and  are  willing  to  admit;  to  which  add, 
the  possibly  enlarged  circle  of  those  j  to  wh6m  by 
person,  or  from  reputation,  we  happen  to  be  known, 
and  in  some  sort  estimated  or  by  some  means  as- 
similated. 

Within  the  limits  of  these  circles,  individuals 
may  be  found,  varying  and  various,  in  shade  and  in 
colouring,  as  are  the  cloud  and  the  rainbow ;  from 
the  fixed  gloom  of  sullen  melancholy,  to  the  evan- 
escent light  of  vanity  and  its  many  weaknesses ;  con- 
spicuous among  whom,  are  the  deeply  disappoint- 
ed, who  growl  at  the  world,  as  if  themselves  were 
faultless,  or  possessed  exemption  of  some  kind,  at 
taching  blame  to,  and  parrying  with  astonishment, 
any  stricture  which  seems  to  question  such  infal 
libility. 

Yet,  in  fact,  the  WORLD  is  sufficiently  consider- 
ate of  those  who  deserve  well  of  the  Avorld ;  ta- 
ken in  the  aggregate,  it  is  neither  hard  nor  unjust 
nor  cruel ;  and  if  liable  to  mistake,  is  usually  no  less 
15 


114 

willing  to  retrace  and  retract,  upon  any  positive  or 
presumptive  evidence  :  sometimes  with  elastic  re- 
action, flying  off  to  the  opposite  extreme,  it  is  seen 
to  overrate  those  whom  it  had  undervalued. 

The  WORLD  is  usually  commiserating  to  afflic- 
tion, provided  it  has  not  arisen  from  the  loss' of 
property,  to  which  loss  it  always  affixes  opprobri- 
um ;  in  full  conviction,  that  waste,  indiscretion,  or 
rash  adventure,  were  the  unpitied  source  of  every 
pecuniary  misfortune  ;  additional  to  which,  the  re- 
duced have  no  longer  the  power  of  contributing  to 
profit  or  pleasure. 

And  yet  the  WORLD  is  tolerant  of  many  other  er- 
rors, which  seem  not  positively  growing  out  of  moral 
depravity  ;  for  although  the  solitary  possession  of 
riches  brings  neither  love  nor  respect,  yet  the  ple- 
nary loss  of  these  is  often  found  to  generate  the 
contempt  of  sarcasm,  and  even  a  sort  of  apprehen- 
sive antipathy. 

In  fine,  the  WORLD  hears  and  sees,  and  some*- 
times  feels,  but  never  reasons ;  it  is  suspicious,  in- 
quisitive and  talkative,  with  a  craving  appetite  for 
the  ridiculous  of  every  description — but  most  glad- 
ly feeding  on  that  which  appertains  to  the  conceit- 
ed, the  ostentatious,  and  the  ignorant,  whose  pre- 
tension is  beyond  their  possession,  whose  waste  is 
without  wealth,  and  whose  vanity  is  without  founda- 
tion. 

In  effect,  the  voice  of  the  WORLD  is  most  loud 
and  lasting  in  derision,  and  aversion  of  pretence  of 
every  kind,  be  it  in  nature,  or  out  of  nature ;  and 
is  even  less  merciful  to  the  accidentally  rich, 
who  misuse  their  ill-gotten  abundance,  than  to  the 


115 

inadvertently  destitute,  and  the  really  desolate,  if 
become  such  through  bad  luck,  credulous  trust,  or 
heedless  profusion — these,  at  first,  accused,  con- 
demned, and  discarded,  can  be  commiserated  or 
endured ;  and  when  fallen  down  to  the  low  abyss 
of  unmitigated  misery,  provided  one  adventitious 
ray  of  merit  is  seen  to  shine  through  the  darkness 
of  their  destiny,  may  also  be  in  some  sort  neutral- 
ized, if  not  willingly  restored,  and  entirely  foiv 
given. 


By  the  beings  of  either  circle,  THOUGHTS 
were  planted — have  grown,  and  are  gathered  to- 
gether in 

THE  SOCIAL  WORLD, 

THE  SELFISH  WORLD, 

THE  TRIFLING  WORLD, 

THE  VAIN  WORLD,  AND 

THE  WORLD  AT  LARGE. 


THE  SOCIAL  WORLD. 


If  an  elevated  character,  in  adversity,  happen 
to  have  personal  foes  of  base  motives,  but  of  suc- 
cessful fortunes,  it  is  curious  to  observe  the  min- 
ions of  THE  SOCIAL  WORLD,  following  the  footsteps 


ne 

of  prosperity,  even  as  the  shadow  follows  the  sub- 
stance, only  in  the  sunshine  ;  these  likewise  disap- 
pearing whenever  the  dark  cloud  of  adversity 
seems  to  surround  the  moral  being,  are  found  to 
assist  the  oppressor  in  vilifying  the  afflicted,  thus 
adding  to  the  sensibilities  of  positive  misfortune,  the 
indignant  sensation  of  imputed  misconduct ;  and  yet 
less  from  malice  and  mischief,  than  from  fashion  arid 
selfishness.  For  such  worldlings  are  equally  ready, 
upon  change  of  circumstances,  to  turn  the  shaft  of 
their  ridicule  against  the  oppressor,  and  become 
the  champions  of  those  whom  they  had  delighted 
to  persecute. 

This  has  the  denomination  of  curious,  rather 
than  noxious,  since  its  origin  is  the  weakness  not 
the  wickedness  of  individual  character ;  essential- 
ly mean,  not  intentionally  attrocious ;  and  usually 
terminating  with  as  little  of  personal  influence  as 
of  permanent  injury. 


THE  SELFISH  WORLD. 


The  value  which  mere  MEN  OF  THE  WORLD 
place  upon  each  other,  is  neither  founded  on  just 
esteem,  nor  built  in  kind  affections;  but  rather 
grounded  upon  the  cold  calculations  of  selfish  ad- 
vantage, in  mercenary  gains,  or  in  frivolous  plea- 
sures. 

Thence  their  individual  opinions,  fluctuating  as 
the  weather  guage,  may  be  said  to  form  a  true 


117 

thermometer,  which  is  seen  rising  and  falling  with 
the  price  of  stocks,  the  rents  of  estate,  and  the 
trade  winds  of  the  Indian  Ocean. 


DISINTERESTEDNESS, 

A  FABLE. 
IMITATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  PROSE., 


AVARO  to  the  Rector  flies ; 

Why  sleeps  thy  zeal,  the  usurer  cries, 

Extortions  stalk  around ; 
Their  gripe  the  heir  expectant  drains, 
Their's  are  the  venturous  merchant's  gains. 

By  which  the  poor  are  ground ! 
It  is  thy  trade,  returned  the  priest ; 

The  sharpest  of  thy  kind: 
Thou  should'st  be  merciful — at  least, 

As  thou  would'st  mercy  find. 

Ah  pray !  sir  priest,  thy  task  attend, 
Nor  let  the  growing  tribe  extend ; 
No  more  my  coffer  feels  its  hoards, 
The  exhausted  field  no  grain  affords, 

The  springs  of  wealth  are  dry — 
Then  with  denouncing  voice  restrain, 
The  NUMBERS  of  extortion's  train, 

Numbers  more  rich  than  I. 
Let  hapless  me  those  curses  bear, 
Which  now  an  hundred  usurers  share, 

With  hearts  more  hard  than  stone ! . 
We  read,  one  sentenced  he  goat  lost^ 
Redeemed  the  sin  sequestered  host  ; — 
Thus  heap  the  offender's  crimes  on  me. 
I  would  the  SINGLE  victim  be — 
Guilt,  shame,  and  grasping  profit—all  my  own ! 


118 


THE  TRIFLING  WORLD. 


Every  society  of  the  trifling  world  verifies  the 
assertion,  that  there  are  men,  whose  sole  distinc- 
tion being  consummate  vanity,  eccentric  opinion, 
and  profligate  propensity,  are  never  the  less  wel- 
comed and  caressed,  even  by  the  wise  and  the 
good ;  inducing  a  belief  in  the  mere  charm  of  ir- 
regularity, by  a  presumption  that  those  triflers  owe 
their  reception  to  the  sole  qualities  of  weakness 
and  vice  ;  while  in  fact,  the  admission  or  toleration 
of  such  is  surely  due  to  the  good  humour,  easi- 
ness of  address,  and  freedom  of  communication 
which  happen  to  be  attached  to  their  foibles. 

For  it  may  be  accepted  as  a  moral  certainty, 
that  no  bad  principle  was  ever,  in  its  solitary  self, 
productive  of  a  really  good  result ;  but  when  any 
one  human  being  commands  the  affections  of  anoth- 
er, it  is  from  something  unequivocally  estimable,  or 
positively  desirable  in  person,  disposition,  or  under- 
standing ;  a  something,  which,  perhaps  we  cannot 
specifically  comprehend,  and  may  from  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  is  associated,  find  it  difficult  to  de- 
fine ;  but,  even  as  no  one  does  evil  for  the  mere 
sake  of  the  abstract  sin,  neither  was  any  one  ever 
beloved  solely  for  the  possession  of  faults,  the  com- 
mission  of  vice,  or  the  perpetration  of  crimes. 


119 

Even  those  offences,  which,  in  effect,  pr<*ve 
profitable  to  ourselves,  do  not  inspire  personal  Re- 
gard, and  in  loving  the  treason,  we  of  necessity  alb- 
hor  the  traitor. 


The  following  may  possibly  amuse  those  who  condescend  to 
be  amused  by  the  veriest  trifles.  At  least  their  absurdity 
may  occasion  a  smile  to  brighten  the  solemn  cloud  which 
has  generally  overcast  the  preceding  pages.  The  fre- 
quent appearance  of  the  first  of  these  inducing  the  pre^ 
sent  republication  with  the  Reply  annexed. 

LINES, 

FOUND   AT    THE    CITY    OF    WASHINGTON,    IN   A    LADY'S    GLOVE. 
THE   AUTHOR   NOT   AVOWED. 


SWEET  GLOVE  !  when  snugly  packed  you  lay 
In  dealers  shop,  and  slept  all  day 
Close  to  your  partner's  bosom  prest ; 
— What  new  emotions  fired  your  breast. 
When  leading  on  the  laughing  loves, 
Philenia  stopped,  and  asked  for  Gloves. 
When  the  reluctant  glove  she  drew 
From  off  her  hand,  and  tried  on  you. 
What  transport  through  your  system  thrilled, 
When  your  distended  form  was  filled, 
With  beauty  never,  known  before  ; — 
And  touched  with  more  than  magic  power ; 
And  ah  !  what  rapture  through  you  flew. 
When  she  replied — "  Sir,  these  will  do." 

Since  daily  you  her  hand  have  prest. 
And  nightly  near  her  gone  to  rest — 


120 

But  soon  alas !  your  joys  are  past — 

Extatic  bliss  can  never  last ! 

For  quickly  you  are  doomed  to  know, 

That  when  you  torn  and  worn  shall  grow, 

You — hapless  elf,  will  be  thrown  by 

Neglected — in  some  corner  lie, 

And  see  some  glove  all  white  and  new, 

Obtain  that  hand  so  prized  by  you, 

To  meet  neglect  for  all  your  love, 
Is  grief  enough  for  hapless  glove — 
But  when  stern  fate  shall  add  to  this, 
That  you  must  know  your  rival's  bliss, 
And  hopeless  meet  his  haughty  scorn ; 
— What  glove  was  ever  so  forlorn ! — 

At  last,  in  plaister,  or  in  string, 
Or  cleaning  plate,  your  days  may  end ; 
WHO  then  will  think  that  such  a  thing, 
POOR  GLOVE  !  was  e'er  Philenia's  friend  ! 


SECOND  ADDRESS 

TO   THE   SAME    GLOVE  ;    INTENDED   AS   A   RESPONSE   TO   THE   VS A-  • 
VOWED   AUTHOR    OF   THE   ABOVE. 


No— not  in  string,  nor  plaister  base, 

But  round  some  tall  preserving  jar, 
This  glove,  the  luckiest  of  his  race, 

Shall  catch  the  Gourmand's  glance  afar ! 
And  all  his  envious  passions  move, 

The  raspberry's  luscious  jam  to  greet, 
The  ruby  of  the  peach  to  prove, 

Or  crab,  as  peach,  or  raspberry  sweet. 
Or  gooseberry — with  its  blending  tart, — 
Or  the  plump  cherry's  scarlet  heart, 
Which  more  than  maiden  blushes  move 
The  science  of  his  taste  to  love. 


121 

The  sugared  fruit  within  thy  care, 

May  more  his  tempted  thought  beguile. 

Than  bashful  beauty's  timid  air, 
Or  balmy  infant's  gladdening  smile  j 

If  lovely  bride,  or  babe  of  glee, 

Were  his,  who  wastes  his  verse  on  thee. 

Then,  lucky  glove,  exulting  go, 
And  as  in  u  sweets"  thy  day  arose, 
In  sweets  its  latest  hour  shall  close, 
Sweets,  that  in  kind  succession  flow. 
Young  beauty  shall  exulting  see, 
And  bend  her  graceful  neck  to  thee ; 
While  her  excelling  fingers  twine, 
Around  each  parted  arm  of  thine  ; 
Unconscious  of  its  fairer  days, 
Will  boast  the  worth  that  AGE*  displays, 
And  give  thy  hoarded  sweets  her  praise. 


TO 

LEWIS  HERVEY,  ESQ. 

SECRETARY    OF   THE   PRESIDENCY,    WASHINGTON    CITY. 

WHO    IN    THE   DEPTH    OF    WINTER,  HAD,    FROM    DISAPPOINTMENT. 
THREATENED   TO   EMBARK   FOR   FRANCE. 


WOULDS'T  THOU,  desponding  lover,  fly 

From  the  charm'd  arrow  of  that  eye, 

Whose  bow  of  opening  heaven  could  dart 

Electric  madness  to  thine  heart ; 

Or  in  its  wizard  circle  bind 

The  passions  of  thy  struggling  mind  ? 

Know,  mid  the  ocean's  ruffian  roar, 

*  Namely. — "  An  old  glove  is  good  for  something.' 

16 


122 

While  cold,  and  dark  the  tempests  pour ; 
Still  shall  that  look  of  bashful  charm, 
Thy  young  untravelled  soul  alarm ; 
And  still  that  dimpling  smile  appear, 
To  show  the  prosperous  rival  near. 
Even  while  some  bright  Parisian  dame 
Surrounds  thee  with  a  transient  flame, 
The  steadier  fire  of  truth  will  burn, 
And  with  the  kindling  thought  return. 

Why  then,  ah  hapless !  would'st  thou  roam  ? 
Why  quit  thy  dear  engaging  home  ? 
Even  now  when  winter's  surly  frown, 
Bears  the  white  hovering  tempest  down ; 
And  full  his  flaky  pinions  lower, 
To  scatter  wide  the  flinty  shower. 

Ere  thy  first  fluttering  hope  has  flown, 
While  sense  and  virtue  are  thy  own ; 
In  thy  warm  youth's  enamoured  day, 
Why  tear  thee  from  thy  wish  away  ? — 
What  miser  quits  his  cherished  store, 
To  trust  the  faithless  seas  for  more ! 
Who  would  a  peerless  gem  resign, 
And  tempt  the  dark  and  doubtful  mine  ? 
Seduced  by  dreams — with  toil  and  care, 
To  find  a  lovelier  treasure  there  ? 

If  now  the  meek  and  timid  maid, 

Of  thy  too  ardent  prayer  afraid, 

With  red  averted  cheek,  decline 

To  meet  one  passion'd  vow  of  thine ; 

Wilt  thou,  to  fears  and  doubts  resigned, 

Fly  from  her  haif  reluctant  mind? 

And  from  her  wavering  fancy  free, 

The  captive  thought,  which  pleads  for  thee. 


123 


INJUNCTION  TO  D.  W.  L. 

WHEN   SEPARATED   FROM    THE    OBJECT    OF     HIS     AFFECTION    BY   THE 
ERRORS    OF   HIS    OWN    CONDUCT. 


INGRATE  !  to  whom,  at  nature's  happiest  hour, 
Was  given  of  heart  the  prize,  of  mind  the  power : 
Wit  to  delight,  and  virtue  to  improve, 
Much  to  command,  and  more  to  sanction  love ! 
Hence  those  dove  eyes,  which  charmed  thy  soul  away, 
Glance  through  the  transient  tear  their  trembling  ray, 
Pensive,  and  sweet,  the  speaking  wanderer's  own, 
How  cold  the  hope  that  lives  when  love  is  gone. 
HEAR  THEN  THAT  HEART — its  noblest  precept  hear — 
With  lip  of  fondness  dry  the  impatient  tear; 
Let  whispered  passion  every  wrong  remove, 
And  wake  to  honour !  tenderness  and  love  ! 


THE  VAIN  WORLD. 


Every  day's  experience  may,  and  does,  disclose, 
among  the  females  of  the  VAIN  WORLD,  individ- 
uals, upon  whose  persons  beautiful  nature  has  be- 
stowed nothing :  with  manners  unpolished,  and  with 
minds  unformed :  the  very  defect  or  deficiency  lead- 
ing to  a  sort  of  popular  applause,  which  occasions 
their  offences  and  them  to  be  excused,  and  in  some 
sort  valued,  particularly  by  the  graceful,  and  the 


124 

gifted :  not  always  from  the  purest  motives  of  be- 
nevolence, but  as  often  through  personal  pride,  and 
in  vain  glory.  Since  the  ordinary,  by  contrast- 
ing, may  serve  as  foils  for  the  more  advantageous 
display  of  the  pleasing  and  the  pretty ;  and  being 
without  influence,  they  are  presumed  to  be  harm- 
less or  well  intentioned. 

Even  men  of  professed  gallantry,  in  conscious 
safety,  possibly  from  compassion,  probably  from 
mere  bravado,  are  occasionally  seen  flattering  these 
elegantes  with  attentions,  which  are  known  to  ex- 
cite neither  jealousy  in  the  one  sex,  nor  envy  in 
the  other. 

Yet  this  very  ordinary  sort  of  personage  is  some- 
times the  vainest  of  the  vain,  with  more  presump- 
tion of  mind,  and  with  greater  insolence  of  deport- 
ment,— where  not  too  dangerous  to  themselves ; 
than  is  either  seen  in  or  attributed  to  the  most  ac- 
complished beauty,  and  the  highest  fashion  of  the 
VAIN  WORLD. 

In  analyzing  such  causes  and  effects,  the  serious 
thought  is  nearly  forced  to  adopt  the  romantic  the- 
ory of  Lavater,  as  to  the  inevitable  result  of  a  fine 
mind  in  a  fine  body. 

And  yet,  as  every  general  description  of  cha- 
racter, like  that  of  every  given  rule  of  life,  must 
be  understood  with  admitted  exceptions ;  the 
above  does  not  reach,  and  cannot  touch  the  culti- 
vated of  mind,  nor  the  amiable  of  manner,  however 
deficient  in  feature  or  in  fashion. 


125 


CHARACTERISTIC  SONGS. 


SUCCESSFUL  LOVER. 

To  these  joyful  eyes  restoring 
All  thy  person's  countless  charms, 

Say,  shall  fancy,  still  deploring, 
Vex  thee  with  her  vain  alarms. 

Wayward  fancy,  ever  dreaming, 

Saw  that  heaven  which  circles  thee, 

For  a  sordid  rival  beaming, 
With  delight's  insanity. 

Now  beheld  thee  coldly  wandering, 
Ever  changing — still  the  same — 

On  some  dangerous  passion  pondering, 
Kindled  by  its  transient  flame. 

Vain  the  fear,  and  weak  the  grieving, 
Since  those  softened  eyes  declare, 

All,  in  truth  that's  worth  believing, 
Lives  and  speaks  devotion  there. 

Never  more  that  truth  suspecting, 
All  my  passioned  soul  is  thine. 

And  the  wondering  world  neglecting, 
Thou,  in  beauty's  blush,  art  mine. 


126 

SONG. 

DEJECTED  WIFE! 


Is  it  for  this  unwandering  mind, 

This  heart,  which  only  glows  for  thee, 

To  mark  that  cold  averted  eye, 

Where  not  one  blessing  beams  for  me ! 

Is  it  for  this  adoring  thought, 

Which  on  thy  plighted  honour  lives, 

To  wonder  at  a  causeless  change, 
Yet  want  the  pitying  hope  it  gives  ? 

Is  it  for  me,  who  many  a  day, 

Have,  in  that  passioned  glance  of  thine, 
Read  words  of  truth  and  lasting  love, 

To  doubt  its  character  divine  ? 

Rather,  since  all  the  gods  have  shed 
Their  glories  round  each  mental  grace, 

To  bid  inferior  mortals  find 

A  heaven  on  that  reflecting  face ; 

Submissive  as  the  martyr's  zeal, 

With  suffering  heart  and  patient  eye, 

When  hope's  deceptive  dream  has  fled, 
Be  mine  to  worship,  and  to  die. 


127 


TO 


A  BEAUTIFUL  INFANT. 


BLEST  II^FANT  !  in  whose  rosy  smiles  we  trace, 
The  sire's  creative  thought,  the  lovely  mother's  grace, 
O'er  thee  that  sire's  resplendent  mind  shall  shine, 
And  all  that  mother's  power  to  charm  be  thine ; 
While  thou,  reflecting  back,  to  both  shalt  bring 
Youth's  fragrant  bloom,  in  life's  delicious  spring : 
Brilliant !  and  blest !  may  no  dark  cloud  appear, 
To  veil  the  sunshine  of  the  future  year. 
Kind  as  thy  birth,  may  partial  fortune  be ; 
For  all  the  life  of  genius  breathes  in  thee.  (1) 


LINES 

TO  A  LADY,  DANCING. 


ETHEREAL  BEAUTY  !  fairy  !  say, 
Who  taught  thy  tiny  feet  to  play  ? 
Was  it,  mid  moonlight's  cheerly  glance, 
That  OBERON,  mingling  in  the  dance, 
Gave  thee  Ms  art,  and  bade  thee  go, 
And  charm  the  gazing  world  below? 
Like  his  thine  elfin  footsteps  shine, 
And  all  his  buoyant  grace  is  thine  : 
Like  his  thy  strains  of  music  flow, 
When  falls  the  cadence  warbled  low. 

No — not  the  monarch  chanced  to  see, 
Nor  gave  his  carols  sweet  to  thee. 
But  favouring  nature  did  her  part, 
And  graceful  made  thee  as  thou  art. 


128 


IMPROMPTU, 


FOR   A    LADY   SINGING   TO    A    RIOTOUS    AND    INSENSIBLE  COMPANY. 


ENCHANTRESS,  cease  !  what  though  Amphion's'song 
Could  draw  the  herds  and  softening  wilds  along, 
No  equal  power  thy  carol'd  words  impart, 
To  move  and  melt  the  vegetating  heart ; 
Though  sweet  their  breathings  as  his  gifted  lyre, 
They  wake  no  wonder,  and  no  praise  inspire  ! 
He,  hlest  musician,  poured  his  soul,  and  then 
Rocks  seemed  to  feel,  and  brutes  appeared  as  men — 
Reversed — the  magic  of  thy  charmed  strain, 
Now  falls  on  men  turned  rocks  or  brutes  again  ! 


LINES  IMPROMPTU,* 

UPON  HEARING  AN  ELEVATED  INDIVIDUAL  ACCUSED  OF  PRIDE,  &C.  &.C. 


I  LOVE  to  hear  the  grovelling  mind, 
Thy  proud  unyielding  spirit  blame, 

Where  genius,  to  itself  confined, 
Disdains  the  vulgar  walks  of  fame : 

But  more  I  love  the  social  scene, 
Where  as  thy  haughty  virtues  bend, 

In  silent  eloquence  serene, 

The  powers  of  gentleness  descend. 


*  These  were  particularly  induced  to  divert  the  attention  of  a  very 
young  person,  who,  having  first  been  terrified  into  tears,  was  afterwards 
soothed  into  smiles  by  a  severe  but  kind  manner. 


129 

Most  loved,  when  from  thy  mental  height, 
Thou  deign'st  with  lowly  voice  to  cheer 

The  heart  that  trembles  at  thy  sight, 
And  timid,  greets  thee  with  a  tear ! 

Even  thus  the  picturing  artist  throws 
O'er  the  strong  lines  which  nature  gives, 

That  softening  shade,  whose  touch  bestows, 
The  grace  that  speaks,  the  charm  that  lives. 


THE  WORLD  AT  LARGE. 


IN  an  intimate  or  a  transient  intercourse  with 
the  WORLD  AT  LARGE,  it  were  best  neither  to  dis- 
trust nor  deceive,  nor  accuse  others,  but  rather  to 
doubt  and  suspect,  and  watch  over  ourselves ;  put- 
ting a  guard  upon  the  portal  of  our  lips,  conversing, 
not  of  persons,  but  of  events,  of  talents,  of  taste,  or 
of  improvements,  where  these  are  appropriate,  and 
where  not,  of  the  useful  and  the  pleasing,  as  suited 
to  every  capacity. 

Not  of  books,  unless  all  present  are  readers; 
since  the  most  unlettered  of  the  circle,  may,  in 
possibility,  be  the  most  amiable,  or  most  merito- 
rious ;  whose  consciousness  we  should  not  alarm,  and 
upon  whose  endowments  we  have  no  right  to  en- 
force silence. 

Not  of  party  politics,  unless  the  company  be  of 
one  sentiment,  for  the  exasperated  partizan  is  oft- 
times  a  persecuting  bigot,  carrying  death  to  his  un- 
believing opponent,  not  indeed  by  the  fagot  and  its 
flame,  but  by  the  equally  fatal  sword  or  pistol. 
17 


130 

Not  of  individual  conduct,  since  our  vanities,  our 
prejudices,  our  passions,  and  sometimes  our  very 
virtues  mislead  us,  when  we  speak  of  the  absent; 
who  are  as  often  injured  by  misapplied  praise,  as  by 
unmerited  censure. 

In  society,  lavish  not  direct  applause  on  those 
who  are  present.  It  is  meanness,  or  it  is  presump- 
tion, drawing  down  contempt,  or  assuming  superi- 
ority ;  and  yet  as  out  of  the  abundance  of  a  very 
kind  and  grateful  heart,  words  of  delight,  and  ex- 
pressions of  praise,  will  spontaneously  overflow, 
such  abundance  is  neither  to  be  censured  as  adula- 
tion, nor  rejected  as  falsehood.  The  honest  cha- 
racter may  be  mistaken  for  its  counterfeit,  but 
courteousness  is  not  naturally,  nor  necessarily,  faith- 
fulness. 

Equally  with  the  baseness  of  positive  flattery, 
avoid  the  rudeness  of  absolute  reprimand. 

Accuse  individuals  in  no  way,  and  criticise  them 
not  at  all,  for  such  freedoms,  usually  received  as 
insults,  are  seldom  forgotten,  and  yet  more  seldom 
recalled  to  remembrance  without  enmity. 

Neither  is  it  quite  safe  to  expatiate  on  our  own 
particular  persons,  our  failings,  our  merits,  or  our 
fortunes ;  in  avowing  and  disclaiming,  we  seem  in- 
sincere, and  become  intrusive  or  impertinent ;  in 
comparing  and  commending,  bold,  boastful  and  dis- 
gusting. 

The  good  and  the  evil  of  our  destiny,  is  equally 
noxious  in  recital ;  as  the  advantages  and  prosperi- 
ties are  invidious  ;  and  but  few  are  pleased  in  find- 
ing the  plentiful  gifts  of  fortune  showered  upon 
others,  while  they  thirst  and  are  hungry  in  the 


131 

desert !  Also  our  ill  luck  and  peculiar  misfortunes, 
bearing  relation  but  to  our  very  selves,  are  often 
held  as  a  species  of  personal  degradation,  and 
thence  awaken  no  sympathy  in  the  multitude. 

In  our  attentions,  be  it  our  aim  to  discriminate, 
not  to  assume,  nor  ever  appear  dealing  out  notice, 
as  if  it  were  condescension. 

Likewise,  it  were  best  to  receive  that  respect 
which  is  legitimately  our  due,  with  modesty,  and 
rather  as  a  favour  confessed ;  being  equally  careful 
not  to  offend  by  rudeness  of  expression,  nor  by  li- 
berties nor  assumptions  of  any  kind,  for  disdain  and 
contempt  itself  are  born  of  such  familiarity. 

Never  oppose  the  hard  negative  of  peremptory 
denial  to  any  assertion,  that  does  not  touch  the  sanc- 
tity of  honour,  nor  strike  at  the  fidelity  of  friend- 
ship ;  and  should  direct  contradiction  become  an 
imperious  duty  to  principle,  let  it  not  wear  the 
rough  features  of  violence,  nor  assume  the  rude  ac- 
cent of  reproach:  since  to  convert,  we  must  con- 
vince, and  in  convincing,  persuade,  ever  resting  on 
inviolable  truth  of  mind,  and  polite  amenity  of 
manner. 

To  accuse  the  WORLD  AT  LARGE,  and  to  con- 
demn its  successful  votaries,  are  the  usual  conso- 
lations of  the  weak,  and  the  wearied ;  yet  it  were 
better  to  reform  than  to  reproach;  and  one  les- 
son directed  to  ourselves,  and  well  understood,  is  of 
more  certain  efficacy  than  ten  thousand  THOUGHTS 
lavished  upon  another 

Yet  every  society  of  polished  life,  affords  a  cho- 
sen few,  to  whom  has  been  given  the  capacity  of 
performing  with  ease,  what  others,  equally  well 


132 

disposed,  wish,  pursue,  and  labour  in  vain  to  effect. 
Of  which  last  is  the  writer's  self,  searching  and 
striving  for  the  path  that  leads  to  peace  and  per- 
fection ;  but  of  mind,  and  by  nature,  incautious  and 
unconcealing.  Inadvertencies  of  utterance  in  the 
opinions  of  that  mind,  have  been  many,  and  mark- 
ed ;  bringing  misapprehension,  meeting  offences,  fol- 
lowed by  regrets  as  inevitable  as  unlimited. 

But  as  the  rescued  mariner,  feelingly  alive  to 
dangers  past,  and  miseries  no  longer  encountered, 
may  prove  the  most  powerful  in  pointing  out, 
and  guiding  through  that  perilous  ocean,  in  which 
the  low  treachery  of  quicksands  with  the  more 
evident  attacks  of  furious  elements  had  crossed  his 
path  and  arrested  its  course — interrupted,  over- 
whelmed, and  cruelly  distressed,  without  destroy- 
ing every  hope  of  his  yet  resting  on  the  desired 
shore  of  an  undisturbed  haven  :  thus  forewarned 
and  forewarning,  there  remain  for  all  the  patient 
and  pure  of  heart,  a  present  blessing  and  a  tranquil 
future,  to  which  the  passions  and  their  world  do 
not  belong :  for  every  passion  may  be  said  to  dis- 
play an  inhabited  WORLD  in  its  violence  and  its 
ways,  painful  to  follow,  easy  to  define  ;  a  WORLD 
desired  and  pursued  by  the  foolish,  pitied  or  de- 
rided by  the  wise,  disdained  and  forsaken  by  the 
virtuous. 


133 


LINES, 

WRITTEN  IMMEDIATELY  AFTER  THE  TREMENDOUS  GALE  AND  STORM 
WHICH  PROVED  SO  GENERALLY  DISASTROUS  TO  LIFE  AND  ITS  POS- 
SESSIONS, ON  SEPTEMBER  23,  1815. 

SIMPLE  ADDRESS  TO  MY  HOME. 


SAFE  on  the  vale's  protected  breast, 
The  portals  of  my  mansion  rest. 
In  trembling  tenderness  of  form, 
Outlive  the  hard  and  hurrying  storm — 
While  on  the  firm  hill's  cultured  side, 
Is  crushed  the  seat  of  taste  and  pride. 

To  God  the  powerless  poor  belong, 
He  shields  the  weak,  and  smites  the  strong. 
Without  his  will  no  sparrow  falls, 
Whose  shelter  was  thy  friendly  walls. 
MY  HOME — if  quiet  dwell  with  thee — 
What  are  the  storms  of  life  to  me ! 
So  in  the  frail  ark's  tranquil  view, 
The  whirlwinds  of  the  deluge  blew  ; 
Hurtless  they  blew — of  heaven  the  care, 
The  dove  of  peace  still  rested  there — 
Rested — while  ruin's  darts  were  hurled, 
To  strike  the  chosen  of  the  world. 

As  yet  from  earth  no  joy  shall  rise, 
Without  the  atoning  sacrifice — 
No  more  thy  bordering  elms  are  seen 
To  fling  their  arch  of  darkening  green — 
And  the  ripe  fruit  tree's  nectared  store, 
Shall  wave  its  blooming  gold  no  more. 


134 

Though  not  a  charm  with  polish'd  grace 
f>mile  on  thy  changed  and  cheerless  face, 
I  love  thee — that  no  passion  rude, 
Profanes  thy  sacred  solitude  : — 
I  love  thee,  that  no  envious  eye, 
Regards  thee  with  a  passing  sigh  ! — 
I  love  thee,  for  the  friend  sincere 
Whose  voice  of  blessing  greets  me  here, 
But  most — that  to  thy  haunts  are  given, 
That  calm,  which  looks  from  earth  to  heaven. 

Not  for  the  fair,  the  firm,  the  high, 
Does  pity  come  with  pleading  eye ; 
Thence  are  thy  faded  features  dear 
To  me,  as  nature's  vernal  year — 
And  dear  thy  wasted  form  to  me — 
For  all  I  love  must  change  like  thee. 


LINES, 

• 

TO   THE    SCION    OF   THE   TULIP    TREE,    SHADING   THE   RURAL  HOME 
OF    MY    ANCESTORS. 


THE  TREE  which  my  forefathers  planted  and  reared, 
To  me,  by  THE  FAME  of  their  virtue's  endeared ; 
Has  nourished  with  them — like  them,  in  their  prime, 
Exotic — yet  genial,  in  nature  and  clime  : 
That  tree  waves  its  branches  of  verdure  and  bloom, 
They,  fading,  are  lost  in  the  deep  of  the  tomb, 
Yet  dear  is  the  hill,  and  the  grove,  and  the  plain, 
Which  no  more  to  the  PLANTS  OF  THE  MANSION  remain, 
Plants  nursed  in  thy  shadow,  all  sportive  and  free, 
Or,  stretched  at  thy  foot,  seemed  as  blooming  as  thee. 
Those  plants  all  have  perished,  and  strangers  are  known, 
To  reap  the  rich  field,  which  affection  had  sown. 
And  yet  the  young  scion,  transferred  to  my  care, 
As  if  the  quick  sense  of  my  fathers  were  there, 


185 


Is  tender,  yet  brilliant,  in  stem  and  in  leaf, 

And  cheers  me  in  sadness,  and  soothes  me  in  grief. 

For  can  I  forget,  as  I  gaze  upon  thee, 

How  many  the  branches,  how  mighty  the  tree.  (1) 

Whence  grew  the  weak  form,  and  the  features  so  pale, 

Of  BOTH — as  WE  bend  to  the  merciless  gale 

Of  seasons — by  hardness,  or  elements  blown, 

To  kill  the  firm  hope,  but  in  solitude  known. 

Of  calm  to  the  scene,  and  of  grace  to  the  mind, 

If  lonely,  yet  social — if  injured,  yet  kind. 


EPISTLE, 

TO  THE0PHILUS  PARSONS,  (2)  UPON  HIS  ACCEPTING  THE  APPOINTMENT 
OF  CHIEF  JUSTICE  OF  THE  SUPREME  JUDICIAL  COURT  OF  MAS- 
SACHUSETTS. 


AND  does  that  mind,  which  every  mind  excels, 
Quit  the  proud  path  where  fame  triumphant  dwells  ? 
While  at  her  side  prolific  fortune  stands, 
And  showers  her  bounty  with  unsparing  hands — 
Bids  but  thy  genius  ask,  and  all  obey — 
Why  fling  the  doubly  proffered  boon  away  ? 
For  the  dull  6cncA,  the  inspiring  robe  disclaim, 
False  to  thyself,  to  fortune,  and  to  fame  ! 

Thou  like  an  eastern  monarch,  reign'st  alone, 

Nor  could  the  aspiring  brother  reach  thy  throne, 

Or  like  a  giant  towering  o'er  thy  kind, 

In  all  the  wondrous  majesty  of  mind ; 

More  strong  than  monarchs — thine  the  nobler  sway 

And  yielded  claim,  which  kindred  souls  obey. 

But  now  uncheered  by  glory's  vertic  rays, 
Tedious  and  tame  will  lour  thy  shadowy  days. 
Condemned  to  heed  the  ever-during  plea — 
Which  endless  folly  blundering  pours  on  thee. 


136 


Or  stifling  all  thy  gentle  heart's  desire, 
With  warning  accents,  bid  the  wretch  expire ! 
Even  him,  whose  wrongs  awake  the  generous  sigh, 
Him,  may  unseeing  justice  doom  to  die ! 

Lo,  then  thy  fate  !  with  pained  and  patient  ear, 
The  hard  monotony  of  words  to  bear, 
Misguided  error,  wandering  far  from  sense, 
Pride's  pompous  boast,  and  passion's  bold  pretence 
Await  thee  now — from  morn's  unwelcome  ray, 
To  the  slow  shadows  of  retreating  day  ;— 

What  though  some  soaring  genius,  true  to  thine, 
In  mental  radiance  bid  the  forum  shine, 
Deep — fervid,  full ;  with  sacred  science  fraught, 
And  all  the  graced  pre-eminence  of  thought, 
Forceful  as  reason  in  her  high  career — 
Yet  falls  like  music  on  the  astonished  ear. 
When,  as  a  charm,  the  fluent  strain  is  found, 
To  bid  enamoured  silence  hover  round, 
Calling  from  thee  that  smile  which  seems  to  speak. 
Gives  the  delighted  flush  to  pass  thy  cheek. — 
More  dark  will  seem  the  void,  his  pause  supplies, 
More  bleak  the  wild  that  mocks  thy  searching  eyes. 

Poor  is  the  mead  the  uncherished  muse  can  give, 
'Tis  thine  to  honour,  and  thy  praise  will  live. 
Still  must  thou  shine,  and  with  unequalled  rays 
The  undying  MANSFIELD  of  departed  days ! 
Guide  of  the  laws,  (3)  an  empire's  boon  and  boast, 
Though  fortune  and  her  dangerous  dream  were  lost. 


137 


ODE  FOR  MUSIC. 

INSCRIBED   TO     GEORGE    WASHINGTON,     UPON     HIS    PUBLIC    ENTRANCE 
IN    THE    TOWN    OF    BOSTON,    DURING   HIS    PRESIDENCY. 


THE  SEASON  sheds  its  mildest  ray, 
O'er  the  blue  waves  the  sunbeams  play ; 
The  bending  harvest  clothes  the  plain, 
The  bannered  vessels  cheer  the  main ; 
The  ruddy  ploughboy  quits  his  toil, 
The  pallid  miser  leaves  his  spoil. 

And  grateful  peans  hail  the  festive  year, 

Which  bids  Columbia's  guiding  chief  appear. 
Hence  disappointment's  anxious  eye, 
And  pining  envy's  lingering  sigh, 
Let  sorrow  from  the  brow  be  borne, 
And  every  heart  forget  to  mourn, 
While  smiles  of  peace  their  charms  display, 
To  grace  this  joy-devoted  day ; 

For  the  GREAT  WASHINGTON  each  lyre  be  strung. 

Thy  matchless  deeds  by  every  bard  be  sung. 

When  FREEDOM  raised  her  drooping  head, 

And  many  a  suffering  hero  led  ; 

When  every  hope  to  thee  resigned, 

Were  resting  on  thy  glorious  mind ; 

How  did  that  breast,  to  fear  unknown, 

And  feeling  for  HER  fate  alone — 
O'er  peril's  threatening  form  the  falchion  wield, 
And  tread  with  dauntless  step  the  endangered  field 

Not  Decius — patriot  dear  to  fame, 
Not  Cincinnatus''  deathless  name, — 
Not  HE,  who  led  the  Spartan  band, 
The  saviour  of  a  bleeding  land — 
18 


138 

Could  more  triumphant  worth  display, 
Nor  shine  with  such  unclouded  ray, 
Of  age  the  hope — of  youth  the  leading  star — 
The  eye  of  peace — the  conquering  arm  of  war. 


TRIBUTARY    LINES 

TO  GEN.  HENRY  LEE. 

HERO   AND    ORATOR,    IN    THE   ANNALS   OF   HIS  COUNTRY ;     VICTIM   OF 
PERSECUTION  THROUGH   THE   VIOLENCE   OF   HER  PARTY  POLITICKS 


YES  !  thou  wert  born  heneath  the  hero's  star, 

Triumphant  leader  in  a  patriot  war ; 

Like  Amman's  son,  ere  manhood's  riper  grace, 

Had  nerved  the  limbs,  and  stampt  the  blooming  face, 

Supreme  in  arms,  a  veteran  foe  thy  claim, 

Thy  daring  valour  won  the  prize  of  fame. 

Or  at  thy  country's  call,  her  powers  to  join  j 
Where  listening  senates  felt  thy  voice  divine, 
As  round  her  GREAT  DELIVERER'S  trophied  bier, 
Awakened  memory  gave  the  hallowed  tear — 
Warm  from  the  heart,  and  glistening  with  its  flame, 
Endeared  by  thee,  its  best  libation  came. 

Brave  was  that  arm  which  taught  a  Briton  fear, 
And  sweet  the  voice  that  charmed  a  nation's  ear. 
But  not  the  forum,  nor  the  battle,  claim 
Alone  thy  homage,  and  divide  thy  fame, 
For  all  the  graceful  charities  which  blend, 
Round  social  life  ; — the  husband,  father,  friend — 
ARE  THINE — and  thine  a  generous  breast  that  glows. 
With  every  worth,  the  noblest  nature  knows. 

In  council  honoured,  as  in  arms  renown'd, 
By  fortune  followed,  and  by  victory  crown'd ; 


139 


Fame  is  thy  own — nor  can  a  muse  like  mine, 

One  flower  of  fragrance  with  thy  chaplet  twine. 

Blooming  and  bright,  the  eternal  green  shall  cheer 

The  closing  winter  of  each  future  year, 

With  thriftiest  germ  shall  blosom  unsubdued 

By  faction's  blight,  or  chill  ingratitude  ! 

Mid  the  full  wreath,  no  bosom'd  worm  shall  feed — 

Nor  envy  shame  it  with  one  mingling  weed, 

This  to  thy  deeds  doth  PUBLIC  VIRTUE  give, 

That  with  thy  country  shall  thy  glory  live  I 

Bright  as  her  rivers,  as  her  hills  sublime, 

Shall  pierce  her  clouds,  and  glitter  through  her  clime ; 

Like  a  rich  gem  adorn  the  historic  page, 

Wear  through  all  time,  and  shine  on  every  age. 


TO   THE 

HON.  JOHN  JAY. 


FORMED,  through  the  paths  of  fame  to  move, 
Graced  by  a  grateful  people's  love — 
Whether  the  helm  of  state  (1)  to  guide, 
Or  bid  the  storm  of  war  subside,  (2) 
Or  to  the  clement  virtues  dear, 
From  Afric  catch  the  falling  tear,  (3) 
Or  with  a  voice  whose  dulcet  strain, 
Might  charm  to  peace  the  phrenzied  brain— 
O'er  the  stern  courts  of  law  preside,  (4) 
Nor  seem  to  lean  on  mercy's  side  ; 
Or  in  thy  soft  retirement  blest, 
Feel  all  the  father  warm  thy  breast — 
Thine  is  high  honour's  noblest  cause, 
And  thine  the  summit  of  applause. 

What  though  a  party's  fraudful  sway 
Would  rend  thy  civic  crown  away, 
To  thee  a  nobler  hope  extends, 
For  thee,  the  patriot  prayer  ascends, 


140 

On  thee,  the  honoured  suffrage  falls, 

For  thee,  the  sacred  people  calls  ; 

Yet  blushing  science  quits  her  strain, 

Silenced,  and  seeking  thee,  in  vain. 

So  when  the  midnight's  vapoury  breath, 

In  clouds  obscures  the  sylvan  heath, 

No  peals  of  music  cheer  the  vale, 

No  floweret  scents  the  freshening  gale, 

Till  the  bright  sun,  with  sovereign  sway, 

Strikes  through  the  gloom,  and  leads  the  day. 


TO 

HIS  EXCELLENCY  JOHN  JAY, 

GOVERNOR,   AND    COMMANDER    IN   CHIEF,    OF   THE   STATE   OF 
NEW-YORK. 


WHILE  those  by  falsehood  led,  with  passion  blind, 
Fall  to  decay,  nor  leave  a  wreck  behind, 
Thy  fame,  ILLUSTRIOUS  PATRIOT,  will  endure, 
Firm  as  thy  mind,  and  as  thy  motive  pure ; 
A  grateful  country  shall  thy  triumph  see, 
And  all  her  muses  lift  their  harps  to  thee. 
Loved,  praised,  and  honoured,  by  no  ill  subdued, 
Thine  is  the  suffrage  of  the  great  and  good. 
Friends  of  thy  life,  by  kindred  perils  tried, 
In  whom  the  millions  of  THE  WEST  confide. 

Though  with  rude  blast  the  breath  of  envy  blow, 
Still  lives  the  laurel  on  thy  tranquil  brow, 
Still  with  thy  genius  shall  thy  virtues  shine, 
And  the  best  plaudit  of  A  WORLD  be  thine. 


141 

SONNET,   TO 

MAJOR  GENERAL  LINCOLN. 


THINK  not,  brave  LINCOLN,  that  the  rage  of  time, 
Can  from  thy  warrior  brow  the  laurel  rend  ; 
Though  midst  its  green  the  living  snows  descend, 

It  still  shall  flourish  with  unfading  prime. 

See  the  wrapt  student  at  his  midnight  oil, 
Recount  thy  deeds  and  lead  thee  down  to  fame, 
While  the  young  hero  kindles  at  thy  name, 

Dwells  on  thy  glorious  wounds,  and  boasts  thy  toil. 

How  o'er  red  Carolina's  arid  plain, 

Thine  was  to  brave  the  dog-star's  striking  glow, 
And  thine  to  lead  bleak  winters  hardy  train, 

O'er  Pelham's  stormy  heights — through  AthoVs  vales  of 

snow ; 

THERE,  first  in  danger,  forced  thy  fearless  way, 
HERE,  at  thy  feet,  subdued  rebellion  lay. 


SONNET 

TO  THE  FULL  SUMMER  MOON. 


THOU  SILENT  TRAVELLER,  of  the  glance  benign, 
Who  from  yon  crystal  car  on  high, 
Shedd'st  the  full  lustre  of  thy  moving  eye, 

While  the  touched  hills  and  vales,  reflective  shine. 


142 


I  love  the  wanderings  of  thy  varied  beam, 

What  time  the  pale  west  bends  thy  silver  wire  — 
Till  in  the  gorgeous  east,  thou  bidst  the  sun  retire, 

Mingling  warm  blushes  with  his  parting  gleam. 

He  draws  his  crimsoned  curtain  round  the  main, 
And,  from  the  warm  earth  drinks  refreshing  dews 

Thou  gently  bending  o'er  the  child  of  pain, 
Canst  charm  the  sadness  of  the  mourning 


HE,  the  proud  emblem  of  oppressive  power; 
THOU,  the  mild  sovereign  of  the  pitying  hour  ! 


ESSAYS. 


ADVERSITY. 

ESSAY  L 

*  V  HEN  habituated  to  affluence,  how  is  the  annihi- 
lation of  its  many  privileges  to  be  borne  ? 

If  the  loss  of  riches  merely  involved  the  relin- 
(juishment  of  fine  clothes,  gay  equipage,  sumptuous 
tables,  and  fond  flatterers — great  were  the  gain  of 
such  loss,  making  the  head  wiser,  and  the  heart 
holier. 

But  when  precipitated  from  our  cast,  robbed  of 
our  associates,  and  beheld  by  our  dearest  friends 
with  the  commiseration  which  belongs  to  inferi- 
ority— 

When  the  proud  meet  us  with  assumed  conde- 
scension, and  the  mean  pass  us  with  affected  for- 
getfulness ; 

When  the  malicious  carelessly  recur  to  the  splen- 
dour of  the  past,  and  the  envious  carefully  dis- 
close the  hopelessness  of  the  future — 

When  praise,  changing  its  features,  is  no  longer 
combined  with  deference  ;  and  when  even  the  as- 
surances of  sincere  friendship  are  to  be  accepted  as 
an  obligation — 


144 

When  no  longer  able  to  bestow,  and  too  high- 
minded  to  receive — to  our  own  sufferings  are  ad- 
ded the  superior  wants  of  the  yet  more  misera- 
ble— 

When  our  virtues  claim  no  homage,  and  our  sor- 
rows inspire  no  sympathy  ;  when  in  our  society, 
even  the  good  seem  wearied,  and  appear  apprehen- 
sive, as  if  misfortune  were  a  pestilence,  of  which 
they  dreaded  the  near  contagion — 

Then  only,  have  we  reason  and  right  in  exclaim- 
ing, hard  is  the  pressure  of  adversity ;  no  longer  a 
ministering  angel,  to  restrain  and  to  instruct,  but  ra- 
ther a  power,  mighty  and  malignant ;  which  bends 
the  spirit  even  to  breaking ;  teaching  the  proud 
heart  to  find  or  to  feel,  that  the  dross  it  never  deign- 
ed to  estimate,  is  more  valued  by  this  world,  than 
all  the  virtues. 


SONNET  TO  ADVERSITY. 

"  For  all  I  thank  thee, — most  for  the  severe." — 


NEGLECTED  NYMPH,  that  with  unheeded  sigh, 

Turn'st  thy  white  cheek  to  every  striking  gale — 
While  the  base  crew  with  wounding  taunts  assail 
And  frowning  wealth  averts  his  wintry  eye  : 
Yet  the  rich  virtues  follow  in  thy  train, 

Thine  is  compassion's  tear,  submission's  calm : 
Consoling  Hope,  Religion's  heavenly  balm, 
And  mild  philosophy's  instructive  strain  : 
And  thine  the  plaintive  poet's  touching  song, 
That  moves  to  melody  the  chords  of  care. 


145 

Pouring  forgiveness  o'er  the  cureless  wrong. 
To  heal  the  wounded  spirit  of  despair. 

Ah !  may  I  ne'er  forget  thy  voice  divine, 

But  bless  the  hour  that  made  its  precepts  mine. 


PROSPERITY. 

ESSAY  11. 

IF  the  affluent  are  followed,  flattered,  and  crown- 
ed with  glory,  why  condemn  their  votaries  as  the 
false  worshippers  of  a  true  idol? 

When  the  heart  is  happy,  it  is  kind  ;  pleasures 
are  blessings,  which,  inspiring  hope,  may  produce 
affection. 

In  the  house  of  rejoicing,  the  charm  of  cordiali- 
ty, and  friendship  and  benevolence  seems  to  reign, 
and  may  in  reality  be  found ;  wisdom  does  not  fly 
averse  from  the  tables  of  luxury ;  but  even  there, 
the  voice  of  genius  adds  interest  to  the  festivity  of 
profusion,  while  elegance  presides ;  that  elegance, 
which,  in  its  delicacy,  appears  the  guardian  of  mo- 
rals, throwing  shame  on  the  presumption  of  vice, 
and  giving  a  fine  polish  to  the  hardest  asperity  of 
virtue  ;  teaching  that  to  wound  is  not  to  mend,  and 
that  it  is  not  through  the  crooked  path  of  devia- 
tion that  we  arrive  at  happiness. 

Elegance,  the  legitimate  child  of  prosperity,  may 
exist,  be  nurtured  and  even  improved,  when  its  pa- 
rent is  no  more  seen ;    becoming  a  sentiment,  an 
19 


146 

impulse,  a   principle,  which,  in  honouring  another, 
forgets  not  to  respect  itself. 

While  this  elegance  remains,  misfortune  cannot 
know  disgrace,  nor  will  it  derive  its  consolation 
from  the  raving  of  disappointment,  as  if  that  afflu- 
ence it  had  loved  and  lost,  were  an  enemy  to  vir- 
tue. 

If  the  hard  and  bitter  heart  is  neither  to  be  sof- 
tened nor  amended  by  prosperity,  it  is  equally  sure 
that  kind  feelings,  and  honourable  principles  are  un- 
spoiled by  her  blandishments,  for  the  true  possessor 
of  such  principles  estimates  riches  but  as  a  trust,  con- 
fided, not  for  the  exclusive  good  of  his  individual 
person,  but  for  more  generous  participation,  to 
bestow,  and  to  relieve,  to  protect  and  to  delight, 
in  causing  the  rays  of  blessing  to  descend,  like  the 
light  of  heaven,  with  equal  munificence  upon  the 
fortunate  and  the  unfortunate,  in  amenities  and 
consolations — in  kindness,  and  affection. 

Are  then  the  attributes  of  prosperity  of  no  avail  ? 
is  the  source,  which  holds  the  fountain  of  our  joys, 
comforts,  and  preservation,  to  be  considered  a 
mere  obstruction  to  virtue  ?  growing  like  a  sickly 
excrescence,  over  the  healthful  forms  of  nature; 
but  to  exhaust  and  to  corrupt  ?  or  is  it  envy,  which, 
following  close  upon  excellence,  seeks  to  blemish 
the  fair  and  the  flourishing — active  and  dangerous 
as  the  serpent  in  the  sun-beam,  in  pouring  out  her 
venom  against  prosperity,  strikes  at  the  prospe- 
rous. 


147 
THE  PASSIONS. 

ESSAY  HI. 

OUR  virtues  may  sometimes  cause  us  to  suffer, 
even  greatly  ;  as  forbearance  and  fortitude  and  re- 
signation imply  the  endurance  of  insult,  of  injury  or 
of  trials.  But  the  sufferings  of  virtue  are  so  sublime, 
so  rich  in  precept,  and  so  crowned  with  rewards, 
that  the  reflecting  mind  must  learn,  and  the  sen- 
sible heart  will  feel,  that  to  triumph  over  the  PAS- 
SIONS, is  to  triumph  over  the  malignity  of  fortune  ; 
and  in  subduing  ourselves,  we  virtually  subdue  the 
many  evils  of  our  destiny. 

As  no  tyranny  equals  that  of  the  PASSIONS  ;  nei- 
ther is  there  any  misery  so  sure  as  that  of  sub- 
mitting to  their  unlimited  controul;  the  greatest 
peril,  the  lowest  obloquy,  the  most  sarcastic  con- 
tempt, are  found  to  follow  and  fall  upon  the  unre- 
strained career  of  those  powerful  mental,  moral, 
and  personal  enemies  of  virtue,  and  of  happiness. 

The  PASSIONS,  in  their  excess,  are  seen  to  dis- 
tort, and  for  the  time  being,  to  destroy,  the  human 
countenance — changing  the  serene  energy  of  dig- 
nified command,  which  speaks  in  the  fine  features 
of  civilized  man,  to  the  vulgar  violence  of  savage 
brutality — altering  the  angel  sweetness  of  beauti- 
ful woman,  to  the  character  and  contour  of  a  mer- 
ciless Demon ;  for  what  is  so  fearful  as  the  mad- 
ness of  the  irascible  ?  what  so  dreadful  as  the  pur- 
pose of  the  revengeful  ?  what  so  vile  as  the  in- 
sinuation of  the  envious  ?  so  abject  as  the  selfish 


148 

ness  of  the  sordid  ?  or  so  ridiculous  as  the  excesses 
of  the  vain  and  the  sensual  ?  Nor  is  it  irrelative  to 
confirm  this  by  a  fact,  adduced  on  the  authority  of 
Madame  de  Stael,  that  all  the  jacobins,  actively 
concerned  in  the  horrors  of  the  reign  of  murder, 
were  individually  distinguished  by  the  same  sort  of 
countenance — pale,  nervous,  and  agitated,  moving 
from  side  to  side,  like  a  wild  beast  in  his  cage.  And 
when  seated,  poising  themselves,  without  rising,  in 
a  sort  of  stationary  restlessness,  indicating  the  im- 
possibility of  repose. 

Thus  powerful  is  the  sway  of  the  evil  passions. 
So  comfortless  and  so  frightful  the  distortion  of 
their  fury. 

Even  ambition,  in  whose  sublime  features  and 
high  feelings,  there  is  the  fascination  of  glory,  and 
the  charm  of  intrepidity  ;  in  striving  to  push  others 
aside,  who  are,  with  the  same  efforts,  struggling  to 
climb  the  same  steep  ascent,  and  to  reach  the  same 
dangerous  apex  of  power  ;  how  often  is  it  seen 
losing  its  hold,  and  falling,  with  a  velocity  which 
strikes,  crushes,  and  disables  the  victim  from  again 
rising  in  triumph,  or  succeeding  in  future  honors  to 
authority. 

If  distress  or  discomfiture  be  thus  the  possible 
portion  of  the  most  seductive,  and  the  least  malev- 
olent of  human  passions,  of  what  avail,  and  to  what 
effect  is  the  nurture  or  the  indulgence  of  the  more 
mean  and  less  morally  attractive  ? 

Nor  let  it  be  urged,  that  these  unsubdued  foes 
of  feature,  of  manners  and  of  mind,  owe  their  des- 
potic empire  to  the  fervour  of  youth  ;  that  time, 
chilling  the  circulations  into  sluggishness,  will,  with 


149 

the  same  hard  grasp,  cool,  calm,  and  quiet  the  hot 
spirit  of  turbulent  inclination.  Believe  it  not.  To 
the  moral,  as  to  the  physical  habits  of  man,  age 
brings  no  remedy  for  the  neglectful.  At  that  pe- 
riod, the  objects  of  sense  may  change,  but  not  the 
violence  of  sensation :  the  fretful  and  the  fu^ 
rious  will  not,  through  the  medium  of  disgust,  be 
rendered  amiable  and  conciliatory.  The  extrava- 
gant love  of  pleasure  will  change  but  to  the  intem- 
perate desire  of  gold,  or  the  more  excessive  ava- 
rice of  power. 

As  certainly,  ere  the  autumn  of  human  existence 
has  passed  away,  will  the  strong  passions  yield  to 
the  stronger  understanding,  or  be  restrained  by  the 
better  principle  :  thence  delay  were  fatal.  Age 
may  never  come,  or  were  it  sure  as  is  the  moment 
of  dissolution,  does  the  mind  bloom  and  brighten 
as  the  body  bends  and  breaks  ?  Will  the  heart 
expand  and  grow  kind,  amid  the  solitude  of  out- 
lived and  buried  affections,  or  under  the  wrongs 
and  estrangements  of  painful  humanity? 

There  is  of  lengthened  existence,  a  probable  pe- 
riod, to  which  improvement  does  not  belong:  when 
to  vegetate  and  to  suffer,  are  all  that  remain  of 
the  beautiful  and  the  glorious. 

Thrice  happy  they,  who  prepared  for  the  pos- 
sible result  of  long  protracted  years,  have  said  to 
the  whole  host  of  lawless  passions,  "  PEACE  !  and 
sin  no  more  /" 


ISO 

STANZAS 

TO  AARON  BURR. 

LATE  VICE-PRESIDENT  OP  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA.  NOW 
UNDER  IMPRISONMENT,  AND  TRIAL  FOR  HIGH  TREASON.  WRIT- 
TEN WHILE  THE  TRIAL  WAS  PENDING,  BUT  NEVER  BEFORE  PUB," 
LISHED. 


THOU  wonder  of  the  Atlantic  shore, 
Whose  deeds  a  million  hearts  appal ; 

Thy  fate  shall  pity's  eye  deplore, 
Or  vengeance  for  thy  ruin  call. 

THOU  MAN  OF  SOUL  !  whose  feeble  form 

Seems  as  a  leaf  the  gales  defy, 
Though  scattered  in  sedition's  storm, 

Yet  borne  by  glorious  hope  on  high. 

Such  did  the  youthful  Ammon  seem, 

And  such  does  Europe**  scourge  (1)  appear, 

As,  of  the  sun,  a  vertic  beam, 
The  brightest  in  the  golden  year. 

Nature,  who  many  a  gift  bestowed, 
The  strong  herculean  limbs  denied, 

But  gave,  a  mind,  where  genius  glowed. 
A  soul,  to  valour's  self  allied. 

Ambition,  as  her  curse  was  seen, 

Thy  every  blessing  to  annoy ; 
To  blight  thy  laurels  tender  green  ; 

The  banner  of  thy  fame  destroy. 


151 

Ambition  by  the  bard  defined  (2) 
The  fault  of  god-like  hearts  alone. 

Like  fortune  in  her  frenzy,  blind, 
Here  gives  a  prison,  there  a  throne. 


CHILDREN. 

ESSAY  IV. 

DOES  happiness  properly  belong  to  earth? 

In  possibility  it  may ;  but  as  a  rare  and  radiant 
gem,  not  to  be  purchased  with  gold,  like  a  slave  ; 
nor  won  by  beautiful  forms,  like  the  vain  and  the 
luxurious ;  nor  conferred  like  court  favour  and  mili- 
tary glory,  on  the  daring  and  the  ambitious. 

That  wealth  and  power,  which  as  happiness,  this 
poor  world  envies  and  covets,  are — when  realized, 
— not  happiness ;  that  is  a  seldom  visitor,  and  like 
the  appearance  of  angels,  may  be  said  to  come  at 
intervals,  and  long  between. 

The  present  writer  has  sometimes  thought  that 
happiness  might  be  found,  even  upon  earth,  but 
only  in  the  hearts  of  CHILDREN,  over  whose  exis- 
tence not  more  than  five  or  six  years  of  the  light 
of  life  has  yet  shone  ;  CHILDREN  who  have  neither 
been  pampered  into  perversity,  nor  disciplined  into 
formality.  CHILDREN,  in  whose  soft  and  divine  fea- 
tures, there  is  all  that  we  know  and  can  believe  of 
Cherubim  and  Seraphim;  whose  lightly  curling 
locks  and  native  graces,  whose  sweet  voices, 
buoyancy  of  spirit,  hilarity  of  mind,  and  tranquil- 
lity of  repose ;  whose  grateful  hearts  and  cares- 


152 

sing  tones,  so  respond  to  every  gentle  emotion^ 
that  it  is  difficult  for  the  afflicted  to  gaze  upon 
those  pure  and  chosen  of  God,  without  tears  of 
tender  and  devoted  admiration,  as  such  were  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven. 

If  wickedness  sometimes  seem  to  be  born  in  the 
heart  of  a  child,  it  should  be  considered  a  Lusus 
Naturce,  a  deplorable  exception,  a  moral  distor- 
tion; which,  like  physical  deformity,  appertains  to 
the  individual  arid  not  to  the  species.  Usually, 
the  cares  and  treacheries  of  life,  not  the  cruelty 
of  nature,  have  hardened  the  soft,  and  changed  the 
sweet,  and  roughened  the  kind  and  estranged  the 
courteous. 

Truly,  that  heart  which  remains  detached  and 
unmoved  by  the  graceful  charm  of  sportive  child- 
hood, and  the  unbought  affections  of  smiling  infan- 
cy, must  be  of  harder  materials,  and  more  surely 
fitted  for  the  treasons,  stratagems  and  spoils*  of 
the  poet,  than  the  man  at  whose  birth,  one  source 
of  enjoyment  was  dried  up;  one  gift  denied  to  his 
senses,  and  one  consolation  refused  to  his  heart, 
even  by  the  creator  of  all  things. 


"  The  man  that  has  uot  music  in  his  soul,"  &c.  &c. 


153 
PLEASING   AND  PLEASED, 

ESSAY  V. 

THE  simple  wish  of  pleasing,  is  perhaps  laudable, 
and  within  certain  limits,  usually  successful,  while 
beyond  the  point  of  moderation  and  its  proprie- 
ties, like  every  excess  and  all  other  extremes,  it 
countervails  itself,  becoming  even  more  repulsive 
than  that  total  negligence  which  borders  on  con- 
tempt. 

As  in  a  free  and  faithful  intercourse  of  mind, 
any  species  of  compulsion  and  every  class  of  de- 
ception is  offensive,  in  the  extraordinary  effort  to 
be  agreeable,  there  appears  a  kind  of  sorcery, 
whose  false  charm  is  meant  to  impel  the  affec- 
tions, or  to  impose  on  the  understanding;  this,  be- 
gun in  distrust,  not  unfrequently  terminates  in  dis- 
like. 

A  lady  of  distinction,  having  personal  motives 
for  conciliating  a  certain  great  artist,  was  heard  to 
exclaim,  "  No  my  dear  Mr.  S not  a  step  fur- 
ther ;  it  would  injure  your  health,  which  for  worlds 
I  would  not  were  upon  my  account  exposed  to  the 
cold  blowing  of  this  comfortless  east-wind." 

The  man  of  genius  bowed  in  pleased  sensibility  ; 
for  solicitude  thus  gratuitously  obtruded  by  a  lady 
elevated  in  rank,  loveliness  and  accomplishment, 
until  her  carriage  drawing  up,  in  turning  to  the 
coachman's  seat,  she  ejaculated,  even  in  the  same 
caressing  tones,  "  my  dear  Cassar — remember  th« 
20 


154 

roads — be  attentive  to  your  horses,  and  beyond  all, 
take  the  most  particular  care  of  yourself." 

The  complexion  of  the  great  artist  altered  to  a 

greenish  hue,  for  "  my  dear  Mr.  S "  could  in 

no  way,  and  by  no  means  be   associated   with  the 
qualities  of  the  African  charioteer. 

The  pleasure  of  pleasing  had  given  to  this  lady 
a  certain  cadence  in  expressions  of  regard,  for 
which,  like  pearls  thrown  at  random  to  the  multi- 
tude, as  every  one  partook,  no  one  was  grateful. 

The  countenance,  the  manner,  the  disposition, 
and  above  all,  the  capacity  of  discriminating  may 
be  said  to  form  a  true  criterion,  by  which  we  at 
once  experience  and  communicate  the  pleasure  of 
that  truly  pleasing  kindness,  which  like  the  bene- 
volence of  mercy,  is  twice  blessed  ;  enjoying  and  en- 
gaging, rewarding  and  obtaining,  a  kindness  neither 
heated  into  adulation,  nor  cooled  into  ceremony; 
the  expression  of  whose  real  praise,  though  sel- 
dom uttered,  is  seen,  felt  and  understood:  for  by 
what  nation  or  people,  or  individual,  is  the  language 
of  the  heart  unread  and  unknown  ?  A  language, 
the  possession  and  the  privilege  of  all  and  every 
one,  be  they  of  riches  or  of  poverty,  alike  read- 
ing, and  alike  liable  to  mistake  or  to  misinterpret, 
the  true  meaning  of  its  mysteries ! 

Though  it  sometimes  seems  as  if  prosperity,  in 
searing  the  inmost  mind,  had  contracted  the  ex- 
ternal senses,  obscuring  knowledge  and  blotting 
out  recollection ;  even  throwing  a  sort  of  oblivion 
over  personal  identity ;  while  the  trials  of  necessi- 
ty appear  in  the  moral,  as  in  the  mechanic  world, 
by  blows  and  bruises,  to  brighten  and  enlarge  the 


155 

capacities,  giving  activity  to  the  senses,  and  im- 
provement to  individual  character. 

And  yet  truly,  the  pleasure  of  pleasing  is  sel- 
dom awarded  to  adversity,  every  effort  made  by 
her  to  such  effect,  in  creating  suspicion,  occasions 
blame,  causes  misconstruction,  and  brings  reproach, 
from  which  the  conscious  being  shrinks  abashed — 
or  with  fired  indignation,  and  prouder  pity,  retires 
to  the  silent  calm  of  solitary  reflection. 

To  the  moral  observer,  who,  seeking  instruc- 
tion, labours  at  improvement,  There  is  good  in  eve- 
ry thing — most  in  the  severe.  If  to  the  votaries  of 
fashion  belong  the  HOPE  and  the  pleasure  of  pleas- 
ing, and  to  the  Anchorite,  the  extacies  of  enthusias- 
tic FAITH,  there  remain  for  the  merciful  heart  of 
benevolence,  as  the  most  pure  and  perfect  of  all, 
the  rewards  of  that  CHARITY,  which  we  are  taught 
to  believe,  more  eloquent  than  the  tongues  of  angels, 
kinder  than  Hope,  greater  than  Faith,  and  more  gift- 
ed than  the  understanding  of  all  earthly  knowledge  ! 


RIGHTS  AND  WRONGS. 

ESSAY  VI. 

How  prone  is  the  daring  mind  to  assert  its  indi- 
vidual rights,  how  seldom  does  it  recur  to  its  per- 
sonal duties.  As  if  the  mere  abstract  power  im- 
plied the  necessity,  admitted  the  fitness,  gave  per- 
mission, or,  in  fact,  brought  apology  for  deviation 
of  any  kind. 


156 

Since  to  every  individual  right,  there  is  morally 
annexed  a  relative  duty ;  if  the  wife  or  daughter 
of  a  prosperous  or  industrious  man  have  the  right  of 
subsistence  from  his  income,  or  through  his  exer- 
tions, there  is  equally  due  the  returns  of  attention, 
assistance  and  obedience.  Even  as  political  pro- 
tection claims  allegiance,  support  implies  depen- 
dence, and  benefits  call  for  every  possible  remu- 
neration. 

Mary  Wolstoncroft,  by  her  pernicious  precepts, 
and  still  more  pernicious  practice,  has,  in  proclaim- 
ing "  the  rights  of  woman"  involved  the  sex  in 
more  real  wrongs,  and  been  the  occasion  of  great- 
er restraints  upon  their  intellectual  character,  than 
the  whole  host  of  masculine  revilers;  since,  if 
those  who  are  most  capable  of  comprehending 
the  perfection  of  moral  beauty,  turn  aside,  in  pre- 
ference, to  the  deformity  of  vice,  if  the  clear  light 
of  knowledge  prove  to  the  female  vision,  a  mere 
ignis  fatuus,  leading  on  and  plunging  down  to  deep 
depravity  and  hopeless  perdition ;  it  were  better, 
infinitely  better,  to  remain  amid  the  darkness  of 
folly,  or  in  the  vacuity  of  ignorance. 

Yet  if  one  presumptuous  woman,  possessed  of 
mind,  and  cultivating  its  attainments,  has  vainly 
rejected  the  good,  in  weak  preference  of  evil,  not 
only  by  personal  error,  but  by  profligate  opinion, 
Avandering  from  the  straight  path,  with  endeavours 
to  seduce  the  innocent,  and  mislead  the  unwary; 
let  her  remain  the  land-mark  and  not  the  model  of 
her  kind  ;  while  the  correct  and  capable  translator 


157 

of  EpicMusJ*  the  pious  and  enlightened  Barbauld, 
the  instructing  and  delighting  Edgeworth,  the  pro- 
found, the  eloquent,  the  admired  Lucy  Jlikin,  with 
the  many,  and  nearly  innumerable  female  writers, 
whose  genius,  virtues,  and  feminine  graces,  having 
improved  and  embellished  the  sex,  and  the  species, 
still  remain  examplars  worthy  of  applause,  and 
meriting  imitation. 

Let  these,  and  such  as  these,  be  seen  effectually 
convincing,  and  eventually  converting,  the  disclaimer 
and  the  skeptic;  by  their  own  incontrovertible  evi- 
dence, be  it  admitted,  that  cultivated  talents,  and  lite- 
rary endowment,  may,  in  meliorating  the  condition 
of  the  individual,  instruct  the  mind,  improve  the 
heart  and  protect  the  morals,  even  of  the  least 
powerful  portion  of  the  human  family. 

Mary  Wolstoncroft,  affecting  to  appear  a  hot- 
headed Republican,  resorted  to  revolutionary 
France,  and  in  the  levity  of  her  restless  and  unsub- 
dued spirit,  among  jacobin  compatriots,  learned  to 
distort  and  to  distract ;  like  those  Architects  of  ruin, 
was  ambitious  to  overthrow,  and  destroy  ;  but  how 
did  the  daring  experiment  end?  Even  by  a  life  of 
mental  extravagance,  and  counteracted  passions,  an 
attempted  suicide,  and  a  disastrous  fate.  In  fine, 
misery,  ignominy  and  destitution. 

In  throwing  aside  the  regulations,  and  disdaining 
the  consolations  of  Christianity,  the  morals  and  the 
destiny  of  this  woman  would  have  dishonored  the 
principles,  and  disgraced  the  profession  of  a  pagan. 

*  Elizabeth  Carter, 


Most  surely,  neither  the  physical,  the  mental, 
nor  the  moral  constitution  of  woman,  admit  of  her 
leading  armies,  or  directing  navies.  To  hold  the 
helm  of  command  either  upon  the  ocean  or  the 
soil ;  she  cannot  acquire  the  hardy  nerve  of  the 
surgeon,  nor  the  bold  voice  of  the  public  orator ; 
debate  does  not  become  her,  and  her  authority  is 
never  to  be  maintained  by  coercion.  Yet  her  sta- 
tion is  high  and  important ;  her  influence  and  her 
duties,  lasting  and  mighty ;  the  enchantment  of 
beauty,  the  delight  of  kind  and  healing  concilia- 
tions, the  world  of  literature,  the  fine  arts,  the  elo- 
quent superiority  of  conversation,  with  the  ho- 
mage of  admiration,  respect  and  attachment,  are 
supremely  her  own.  Also  the  first  ideas  of  filial 
infancy,  the  early  impressions  of  maturing  youth, 
and  the  late  consolations  of  departing  age,  are  her 
peculiar  attributes. 

What  is  man,  deprived  of  honourable  affection- 
ate woman?  A  brutal  sensualist,  or  a  gloomy  mis- 
anthrope, whom  individuals  do  not  respect,  and  the 
best  portion  of  society  derides  and  deserts. 

Neither  has  it  been  thought  that  political  opin- 
ion, the  sciences,  nor  any  of  those  themes,  which 
interest  the  feelings,  and  occupy  the  understanding 
of  her  companion  man,  are  so  far  out  of  her  de- 
partment as  to  be  regarded  by  woman  with  indif- 
ference, provided  violence  and  supercilious  de- 
meanour be  not  permitted  to  carry  their  disgrace 
to  her  person. 

When  high  endowments  and  decided  talents  are 
united  with  mild  manners  and  modesty  of  deport- 
ment, they  will  please  in  either  sex ;  and  for  wo- 


169 

man,  when  the  despotic  reign  of  beauty  has  faded 
away,  the  influence  of  such  talents,  and  such  man- 
ners, will  remain  powerful  and  attractive,  ever 
honoured,  and  always  admired. 

If  the  coarse  conduct,  plain  persons,  and  neg- 
lectful habits  of  some  literary  women,  are  deci- 
dedly repulsive,  those  defects,  and  not  the  addi- 
tional accomplishment  of  understanding,  are  the 
cause  of  that  repulsion ;  for  the  mind  of  woman 
is  degraded  only,  when,  forfeiting  her  real  rank  and 
forgetting  its  influence,  she  endeavours  or  affects 
to  steal  upon  the  bold  occupations,  the  active  pro* 
fessions,  the  exclusive  dictatorship  of  man. 

To  conclude ;  the  high  station  which  woman 
sustains  in  the  Christian  world,  is  surely  due  to  the 
benign  influence  of  the  Christian  religion.  What 
is  woman  in  Barbarian,  Pagan  and  Mahomedan 
countries?  What  was  she  in  the  polished  region  of 
enchanting  Greece,  or  in  the  glorious  empire  of 
triumphant  Rome  ?  With  the  exception  of  ten  or 
twelve  solitary  instances,  a  slave  or  a  victim. 

Amid  the  civilized  blessings  of  Christianity,  she 
is  the  companion,  the  confidant,  the  adviser  and  the 
consoler  of  man — the  guide  and  guardian  of  his 
happiness,  the  comforter  of  his  afflictions,  upon 
whose  attractions  his  eye  dwells,  and  his  hope  rests, 
from  the  first  dawn  of  awakened  reason,  to  the 
last  shade  of  declining  memory:  and  from  that 
ever  sacred  source  we  are  taught  that  the  true 
Bights  and  the  real  happiness  of  woman,  are  only  to 
be  protected  and  enlarged,  by  her  conforming  to  its 
divine  precepts  of  forbearance  and  reliance,  re- 


160 

membering  and  regarding  the  reasonable  limitation 
of  her  power,  as  the  honourable  extent  of  her 
duties. 


WHAT  IS  TRUE  PRINCIPLE? 

ESSAY  VII. 

IT  has  been  questioned  whether  truly  correct 
principle  be  the  result  of  precept  co-operating 
with  example ;  or  a  nobler  sentiment  emanating 
from  the  soul? 

With  Helvetius,  I  have  believed  that  culture 
can  do  much,  provided  the  mind  be  happily  or- 
ganized ;  but  I  have  not  believed  with  Helvetius, 
that  education  is  omnipotent  in  power  and  in 
glory :  to  effect  every  thing  for  the  heart,  and  for 
the  understanding. 

Since  the  innate  disposition  for  right,  and  the 
actual  propensity  to  wrong,  are  so  individually 
marked,  by  nature  herself,  as  to  seem  almost  in- 
vincible ;  the  materialist  may  attribute  this  propen- 
sity, and  that  disposition,  to  the  nerves,  to  the 
blood,  or  to  the  muscles.  If  as  a  parent  anxious 
for  his  offspring,  he  has  traced  the  fact,  he  will  not 
deny  its  existence. 

Under  the  same  irresistible  belief,  I  have  de- 
fined true  principle,  to  be  a  sense  of  duty,  an  im- 
pulse of  virtue,  a  perception  of  right,  which,  willf 
capacity  to  discern  and  to  discriminate,  feels  be- 
fore it  reasons,  and  acting  from  the  rectitude  of  its 
own  original  nature,  resists  evil,  and  does  good, 


161 

without  the  hope  of  reward,  the  calculation  of 
profit,  or  the  doubt  of  timidity :  it  is  forbearing, 
and  conciliates ;  placable,  and  pardons ;  tender, 
and  consoles  ;  active,  and  assists  :  it  is  both  grate- 
ful and  beneficent — faithful  to  acknowledge,  and 
prompt  to  bestow ;  for  when  was  the  heart  of  in- 
gratitude allied  to  the  feelings  of  generosity  ? 

True  principle  is  sincere,  and  knows  not  to  de- 
ceive-^firm,  and  will  not  be  tempted — pure,  and 
repels  corruption.  It  is  unchanging  because  uner- 
ring. It  is  disinterested,  and  travels  by  no  crooked 
path  to  fortune.  In  the  proud  dignity  of  self  re- 
spect it  is  elevated  above  the  egotism  of  vanity ; 
and  in  perfect  humility,  always  known  to  sacrifice 
the  selfish  to  the  social  affections. 

Severe  in  character,  but  cordial  in  kindness — 
studious  of  improvement,  and  living  to  utility,  it 
neither  lends  the  hours  to  idleness,  nor  gives  the 
heart  to  presumption. 

Such  are  the  properties  which  the  present  wri- 
ter has  believed  to  contain  the  elements  of  true 
principle,  even  that  true  principle  which  must  feel 
honestly,  in  order  to  act  worthily  :  and  is  this,  like 
a  mechanic  art,  to  be  studied  and  learned,  and  prac- 
ticed by  that  merely  reasoning  perseverance  which 
coldly  reflects,  deliberates  and  resolves  ?  Counting 
the  cost  and  receipting  the  advantage  of  every  vir- 
tue :  a  plausible  substitute,  specious  and  pretending, 
but  born  of  the  brain,  and  never  approaching  the 
heart?  as  devoted  to  self  interest  and  existing  for 
the  world ;  the  one  is  its  true  standard,  the  other 
its  chosen  reward. 
21 


162 

Yet  most  readily  be  it  conceded,  that  great  and 
grateful  and  efficient  is  the  influence  of  just  pre- 
cept united  to  right  example,  powerful  to  confirm 
improve  and  enlighten  the  capacities  of  a  well 
organized  mind,  and  frequently  and  forcibly  is 
it  found  to  counteract  'the  perverse  temper  of 
hearts,  which,  bad  by  nature,  might  become  atro- 
cious through  neglect. 

To  corrupt  the  principles  of  the  originally  vir- 
tuous were  probably  more  arduous  than  to  cor- 
rect the  propensities  of  the  evil  disposed ;  for  the 
moral  feeling  shrinks  from  contamination,  and  the 
pure  and  peaceful  heart,  clothed  in  humility,  dares 
not  trust  its  own  strength,  but  fears  and  shuns  the 
possible  contagion  of  evil. 

Not  thus  the  offender.  As  the  hardihood  of  his 
character,  rising  to  defiance,  fears  nothing  and 
braves  every  thing,  he  may,  in  the  bold  presumption 
of  his  passions,  draw  near,  and  in  listening  to  the 
eloquence  of  truth,  be  unexpectedly  won  by  the 
charm  of  its  accent  to  abandon  the  misery  of  of- 
fence, and  to  seek  the  happines  of  well-doing. 

In  opposition  to  this,  see  the  mechanically  vir- 
tuous, who  has  not  the  image  of  God's  goodness 
stampt  upon  his  soul ;  if  seduced  by  perverted  rea- 
son, or  misled  by  unbridled  passion,  the  mental  ob- 
duracy of  his  nature  will  neither  yield  nor  retract; 
consequently  cannot  be  softened  into  reform,  nor 
soothed  into  reflection. 

Yet  this  should  not  discourage  the  doubtful,  nor 
intimidate  the  repentant.  Let  these  rather  de- 
rive instruction  by  adverting  to  the  history  of  the 
divine  Socrates,  in  whose  character  nature  had 


163 

blended  bad  propensities  with  good  dispositions; 
sublime  genius  with  destructive  passions.  The  mo- 
ral and  the  wise,  even  in  early  youth,  proving 
sufficiently  powerful  to  overcome  the  evil  and  the 
foolish,  not  through'the  omnipotence  of  education, 
but  by  the  determined  energy  of  his  own  correct- 
ed will,  and  the  active  integrity  of  an  originally  su- 
perior soul  ;  for  the  inclinations  of  his  well  organi- 
zed mind  were  virtuous,  those  of  his  unruly  pas- 
sions vicious — wisdom  improving  the  one,  and  sub- 
verting the  other,  constituted  what  may  be  termed 
correct  principle ;  elucidated  by  the  moral  genius 
and  mental  graces  of  his  life,  the  mild  philosophy 
and  faithful  precept  of  his  death. 

The  conclusions  to  be  deduced  are,  that  those 
to  whom  nature  has  given  the  best  temperament, 
material  and  intellectual,  are  most  capable  of  ap- 
proaching the  height  of  human  perfection ;  yet 
the  more  deficient  have  strength  and  means  to  re- 
solve themselves  into  improvement,  physical,  intel- 
lectual and  moral ;  while  all  who  feel  and  think 
and  reason,  may  become  good,  and  kind,  and  vir- 
tuous ;  provided  they  do  not  stifle  the  small,  but 
sure  voice  of  conscience,  which  God  has  given 
them. 

Neither  does  it  demand  the  sublime  wisdom  of 
Socrates  to  extirpate  the  bad,  and  to  cultivate  the 
good,  that  is  born  and  lives  within  us :  it  is  a  plain 
and  simple  lesson,  in  which  we  must  be  our  own  im- 
mediate instructors ;  and  for  which,  the  most  mode- 
rate abilities  are  competent.  At  the  same  time  it 
is  a  lesson  sufficiently  profound  to  occupy  and  to  in- 
terest the  most  reflective  mind,  the  most  feeling 


164 

heart,  and  the  most  comprehensive  genius.  A  les- 
son rich  in  profit,  high  in  honour,  and  profuse  of 
the  best  rewards  on  earth  and  in  heaven. 


MUTABILITY. 

ESSAY  VIII. 

Is  it  a  melancholy  or  a  consolatory  reflection, 
that  the  moral  faculties,  like  the  physical  and  men- 
tal attributes,  exist  but  in  continued  MUTABILITY  to 
dissolution  ? 

If  the  kindest  affections  of  the  human  heart 
wear  out,  so  do  its  animosities ;  as  the  friend,  who 
was  beloved  and  approved  yesterday,  can,  without 
sensible  cause,  be  distrusted,  and  even  detested  to- 
morrow. 

And  the  man  who  held  his  enemy  in  reprobation 
during  the  year  that  has  passed  away,  in  meeting 
him  with  softened  asperity,  or  with  tolerating  in- 
difference, can  on  the  present  season,  or  at  some 
more  distantly  auspicious  period,  be  soothed  into 
commendation,  or  warmed  into  regard. 

That  reputed  moralist,  Samuel  Johnson,  has  as- 
serted, that  he  loved  a  good  hater,  which  assertion 
does,  in  my  unassuming  opinion,  appear  to  indicate 
an  inconsiderate  brain,  and  an  irritated  heart ;  for 
what  is  a  good  hater  ?  Is  it  one  who  cannot  relent, 
and  will  not  forgive  ?  or  rather  is  it  not  one  whose 
enmity  leads  on  to  violence,  cruelty,  and  if  possi* 
ble,  to  extermination  ? 


165 

Is  the  man  who  hates,  happy?  Does  he  hot 
rather  endure  greater  anguish  than  his  victim? 
Can  we  bid  a  fellow  mortal  suffer,  and  be  calm? 
The  angry  man,  HE  who  inflicts  and  injures,  is  the 
true  self  tormentor  ;  his  hurried  step — his  raving 
voice — his  restless  eye,  and  his  pale  and  quivering 
lip,  all  proclaim  distress  and  discomfiture  ;  a  worm 
that  never  dies,  and  a  fire  that  cannot  be  quench- 
ed, while  the  fury  exists  and  remains  unconquered. 

The  Almighty  has  thus  permitted  the  retribu- 
tion of  punishment  to  live  in  the  heart  of  the  iras- 
cible, teaching  how  much  better  it  were  in  obe- 
dience to  the  divine  injunction,  to  love,  cherish,  and 
bear  with  each  other — that  is,  to  love  where  possi- 
ble— to  cherish  when  useful — to  bear,  and  forbear 
always ;  since  however  transient  the  despotic  reign 
of  passion  may  prove,  the  suffering  and  the  shame 
it  occasions,  will,  in  effect,  be  too  permanent. 

What  is  more  afflictive,  or  more  offensive,  than 
to  find  the  passions  quicken  as  the  senses  decline  ? 
when  alterations  of  person,  of  opinions,  and  of  feel- 
ings, daily  and  hourly  arrive,  and  when  the  effort 
should  be  to  take  heed  to  our  ways,  that  we  yield 
not  to  vexation  or  violence  of  any  kind. 

As  the  human  animal  was  not  constituted  to  en- 
dure the  irritability  of  perpetually  wasting  excess, 
neither  was  the  intellectual  being  so  organized; 
and  there  is  a  period  of  sublunary  existence,  ere 
the  incapacities  of  age  have  come,  in  which  the 
constitution  of  body  and  of  mind  must  resort  to 
the  rest  and  the  remedy  of  mildness  and  modera- 
tion:— that  is,  provided  the  mental  light  of  mo- 
ral principle  be  not  wholly  extinguished* 


166 

The  wisest  man  has  said,  that  all  below  is  vanity 
and  vexation  :  the  most  foolish  may  learn,  that  even 
these  are  uncertain  and  mutable,  as  are  the  clouds 
and  the  sun-beams,  which  alternately  frown  and 
smile  upon  all  around  us. 

Still,  it  is  to  be  feared,  that  the  irascible  feel- 
ings have  greater  longevity  than  the  kind  disposi- 
tions ;  and  poor  human  nature  is  more  usually 
given  up  to  the  evil  demon  of  envy,  hatred  and 
malice,  than  to  the  good  angel  of  mercy,  justice, 
forbearance,  and  commendation  :  this  admitted,  in 
what  catholic  purgatory  can  we  be  so  purified  as 
to  become  subjects  worthy  of  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven? 


PIETY,  FILIAL  AND  FAITHFUL. 

ESSAY  IX. 

How  many  persons  escape  from  the  performance 
of  their  highest  duties,  by  affecting  to  hold  these 
like  mere  pecuniary  contracts,  dependant  on  the 
conduct  of  others  :  yet  the  injunctions  of  religion 
and  morality  are  positive,  not  conditional ;  for  we 
are  told  to  love  God,  and  to  honour  our  parents, 
though  our  afflictions  may  be  such,  that  heaven 
seems  to  have  bestowed  nothing  of  good  ;  while 
some  parents  appear  mentally  and  morally,  not 
very  worthy  to  be  honoured. 

But  as  there  is  a  divine  mystery  around  the  om- 
nipotent name  of  the  Creator,  there  is  likewise 


167 


a  kind  of  holiness,  as  the  very  word  indicates,  at- 
tached to  filial  PIETY,  which  the  more  virtuous 
must  feel,  and  which  the  most  wicked  may  fear, 
even  as  the  ancient  heathens  have  asserted,  and 
the  holy  scriptures  confirmed,  that  the  denuncia- 
tions of  an  injured  and  afflicted  parent  will  usually 
prove  fatal. 

What,  in  human  atrocity,  appears  more  dreadful, 
than  a  child,  taunting,  reproaching,  abusing,  and 
even  intimidating  a  parent  ?  or  what  more  lovely, 
than  supporting,  sustaining,  and  consoling  the  weak- 
ness, the  wants,  and  the  sufferings  of  distress  and 
decrepitude  ?  Even  the  young  and  beautiful  Anti- 
gone, by  the  side  of  the  blind  and  despairing 
CEdipus  ! 

Yet  surely  this  obedience  of  children  does  not 
enjoin  the  sacrifice  of  themselves,  in  any  way ;  and 
still  less  does  it  imply  or  permit  the  relinquishment 
of  any  one  moral  obligation ;  as  heaven  is  above 
earth,  so  is  our  duty  to  that  Father  who  is  in  hear 
ven,  beyond  any  observance  which  can  be  due  to 
a  mere  mortal. 

Modern  Philosophy,  as  inculcated  by  revolu- 
tionary France,  intending  to  destroy  by  depraving, 
began  at  the  foundation  in  an  endeavour  to  weak- 
en the  force  of  co-relative  duty.  But  the  accu- 
rate observer  will  find  the  deportment  of  the  child, 
to  be  the  test  of  truth  in  character ;  and  where 
that  is  exemplary,  doubt  not  of  finding  the  quali- 
ties of  an  Angel. 


YOUTHFUL  INGENUOUSNESS  AND 
OBDURACY. 

ESSd  Y  X. 

As  but  few  things  in  earthly  existence  appear 
so  attractively  charming  as  the  simple  ingenuous- 
ness of  vernal  youth; — not  knowing,  and  thence 
not  distrusting  those  wiles  and  that  wickedness 
which  afflict  the  heart  of  experience,  so  to  the  dis- 
positions of  young  persons,  always,  or  often,  can- 
rassing  motives,  investigating  actions,  and  suspicious 
of  principles,  there  seems  to  belong  a  hardness  of 
nerve,  and  an  insidiousness  of  intention,  which  age 
will  probably  resolve  into  cunning,  strengthen  into 
obduracy,  or  contract  into  misanthropy. 

Like  certain  fruits,  forced  in  a  hot-house,  those 
young  stoics  may  be  said  to  disclose  bloom  without 
sweetness ;  a  premature  ripeness,  dry,  sour  and 
solid,  which,  never  permitted  to  feel  the  genial 
glow  of  nature,  cannot  be  expected  by  the  mere 
movement  of  time,  to  melt  into  tenderness,  or  be 
enriched  by  the  fine  taste  and  mellow  excellence 
of  perfection.  Although  cultivated  by  art,  and  la- 
boured with  care,  these  are  less  kindly  grateful 
than  the  wild  produce  of  the  field  and  the  wood. 


169 
POLITENESS. 

ESS  AY  XL 

To  the  word  polite,  as  if  derived  from  polished* 
we  have  usually  annexed  the  ideas  of  cultivation, 
refinement,  dignity,  and  propriety,  even  these,  as 
not  exclusively  belonging  to  exterior  accomplish- 
ment, but  resulting  from,  and  united  with  the  no- 
bler virtues  of  heart,  and  the  finer  faculties  of 
mind.  Hence  the  polite  is  known  by  a  demeanour 
of  person,  easy  and  graceful,  combined  with  good 
sense,  discriminating  and  forbearing — kind  tem- 
per, accepting  and  bestowing — mild  benevolence, 
relinquishing  its  individual  gratifications,  and  in  all 
honour,  preferring  those  of  another. 

The  result  is,  that  politeness,  including  and  unit- 
ing manner  and  mind,  does  not  consist  in  mere  exter- 
nal address,  its  deportment  of  body,  nor  its  adu- 
lation of  language  :  for  the  lavish  excess  of  verbal 
flattery,  is  so  far  from  being  the  criterion  of  po- 
liteness, that  it  may  be  observed  of  uneducated 
persons,  when  suddenly  elevated  from  want  to 
wealth,  if  not  grossly  rough,  arrogating,  and  ostenta- 
tious, they  are  for  the  most  part  frivolous,  and  fini- 
cal, familiarly  and  indiscriminately  extolling;  seem- 
ing to  hold  such  efforts  as  the  perfection  of  po- 
liteness. 

But  for  the  perfection  of  politeness,  the  individ- 
ual should  inherit  an  evident  expansion  of  heart, 
and  an  adequate    proportion    of  brain,  quick   per- 
ception, nice  discernment,  even  a  sort  of  intuitive 
22 


170 

glance  of  mind,  with  the  graces  of  forbearance,  pa- 
tience, and  dignified  compliance,  when  in  yielding 
the  preference  of  his  taste,  and  the  inclination  of 
his  fancy,  to  the  comfort,  the  pleasure,  or  the  ca- 
price of  another,  he  appears  to  act  in  unison  with 
his  own  wishes  ;  as  an  apparent  dissatisfaction  would 
seem  to  imply  direct  reproof,  or  indirect  reproach, 
even  of  those  at  whose  instance,  or  upon  whose  ac- 
count, the  sacrifice  had  been  made  ;  thus  foolishly 
cancelling  obligation,  when  all  hope  and  every 
chance  of  redress  has  passed  away. 

Active,  or  formal  officiousness,  causing  trouble, 
or  bringing  constraint,  is  so  repugnant  to  politeness, 
that  it  is  only  more  tolerable  than  the  chilling  apa- 
thy of  determined  neglect. 

If  in  politeness,  we  may  not  express  truths  un- 
courteous  and  unpleasant,  neither  can  we,  consis- 
tently with  its  best  principles,  utter  false  senti- 
ments, or  prefer  opinions  destitute  of  integrity. 

Even  contradiction  may  possibly  be  so  modifi- 
ed, as  that  offending  no  proper  principle  of  polite- 
ness, it  would  bring  no  vexation  to  the  mind,  nor 
leave  any  resentment  upon  the  memory. 

As  the  proper  principles  of  politeness  are  close- 
ly allied  to  the  high  moral  endowments,  the  truly 
polite  is  courteous,  not  faithless — yielding,  not  ab- 
ject— patient  and  attentive,  but  neither  insensible 
nor  cringing — rather  mentally  sympathising  than 
orally  professing,  and  in  full  self-possession,  neither 
light  nor  loud — nor  a  boaster,  nor  a  scorner ;  but, 
in  sparing  the  absent  character,  seemingly  to  res- 
pect the  kind  and  honest  feelings  of  the  society 
present.  As  in  submitting  his  taste,  his  fancies,  and 


171 

his  better  accommodation,  to  the  invalid,  the  wea- 
ried, the  humble,  and  the  bashful ;  he  neither  as- 
sumes merit,  nor  flies  from  acknowledgement. 

In  fine,  true  politeness  is  a  sentiment  of  the  soul, 
a  fair  feature  of  the  mind,  which  no  individual  of 
a  furious  or  crafty  disposition  can  invariably  dis- 
play ;  since,  in  the  habit  of  giving  indulgence  to  the 
atrocious  feelings,  and  anxious  only  for  their  own 
persons — these  have  found  but  a  single  object  in  the 
centre  of  creation,  that  single  object  being  SELF — 
making  exactions,  but  offering  no  sacrifices ;  while 
true  politeness,  like  real  charity,  even  in  suffering 
wrong,  is  kind,  vaunteth  not  itself,  does  not  BEHAVE 
unseemly,  seeketh  not  its  own,  and  is  not  easily 
provoked  :  obeying  the  apostolic  injunction,  "  Be 
pitiful,  be  courteous  /" 


LINES  TO 
MRS.  MONTGOMERY. 

WIDOW    OF    THE   HERO    WHO  FELL    BEFORE    THE    WALLS  OF 
QUEBEC. 


WIDOW  OF  HIM,  a  nation's  boast, 
In  life's  meridian  summer  lost; 
BELOVED  OF  HIM,  an  empire's  pride, 
With  whom  an  hero's  genius  died. 
MONTGOMERY,  o'er  whose  tranquil  brow, 
Collected  honours  seem  to  flow. 

Yet  not  to  thy  illustrious  name, 
Thy  lineal,  thy  connubial  fame, 


172 

Do  the  instructed  muses  raise, 
Their  tribute  of  unflattering  praise. 

To  thee,  the  great  Creator  gave, 
Each  boon  that  fortune's  children  crave — 
Gave  taste,  and  talent,  formed  to  charm, 
The  judgment  clear,  the  temper  calm, 
The  soul  sublime,  the  generous  breast, 
Where  all  the  kindred  mercies  rest ; 
That  when  with  soft  and  timid  eye, 
The  child  of  grief  and  penury — 
From  the  bold  front  of  insult  turns, 
And  life's  appalling  lesson  learns. 
Thy  tender  accent,  nature  taught, 
Steals  from  her  sense  the  torturing  thought, 
How  once  her  youth  attractive  shone, 
And  friends,  and  fortune  were  her  own. 
These  all  are  thine — and  rank  and  name, 
But  more  than  these  thy  virtues  claim, 
Those  winning  virtues  which  impart, 
The  cultured  mind,  the  feeling  heart. 

While  yet  a  nation's  vows  proclaim, 
How  dear  her  lost  MONTGOMERY'S  fame : 
Yet  to  that  fame,  new  honours  (1)  give, 
And  bid  them  with  her  freedom  live ; 
Nor  till  that  freedom  feels  decay, 
Shall  their  least  lustre  fade  away. 
Still  the  ne'er  parted  pang  will  turn, 
To  HIM  who  fills  yon  gifted  urn ; 
As  if  but  yester's  mournful  eve, 
Had  taught  the  severed  heart  to  grieve. 

While  yet  thy  country's  pitying  praise, 

Would  the  remembering  marble  raise, 

While  yet  her  people's  graceful  tear, 

Is  sparkling  on  the  glorious  bier, 

Shall  not  thy  griefs  some  solace  find, 

In  DEEDS  that  move  a  nation's  mind  ? 

DEEDS,  through  the  earth's  bright  orbit  known, 

Making  that  nation's  BOAST  thy  own ! 


173 

TIME  AND  TRUTH. 

ESSM  YXII. 

THE  progress  of  Time  on  the  features  of  hu- 
man beauty,  so  often  imperceptible  to  the  indi- 
vidual, is  usually  as  much  exaggerated  by  the  preju- 
dices of  the  world,  as  the  charms  of  vernal  youth 
are  overrated  by  the  passion  of  the  lover.  The 
one,  elevating  to  the  immortal  loveliness  of  angels, 
the  other,  depreciating  to  the  deformity  of  death, 
and  the  disgust  of  its  total  extinction. 

Yet  the  one  opinion  is  not  more  worthy  of  being 
literally  accepted,  than  is  the  other;  as  in  this 
world,  the  mortal  may  not  put  on  immortality : 
neither  are  the  traces  of  original  beauty  to  be 
wholly  obliterated  from  the  "face  divine"  merely 
and  solely,  through  the  long  succession  of  years, 
unaided  by  sorrow  sickness  or  sin. 

But  rather  in  the  fine  features  of  living  beauty, 
as  in  those  of  architectural  perfection,  will  the  sub- 
lime and  even  the  beautiful  be  found,  and  exist  and 
attract,  amid  that  desolation  which  leaves  them 
exposed  as  Ruins. 


174 
WISDOM  AND   WICKEDNESS. 

ESSAY  XIII. 

IF  WISDOM  appear  to  have  its  individual  absurdi- 
ties, genius  its  personal  aberrations,  and  science 
its  human  fallibility,  while  to  folly  belongs  the 
sometime  seeming  of  good  humour,  to  vice  the  apo- 
logy of  eccentricity,  and  to  atrocious  WICKEDNESS 
a  few  lucid  intervals  ;  let  not  the  base  and  the  bru- 
tal exult,  since  it  is  nevertheless  true,  with  admit- 
ted exceptions  comparatively  few  and  fatal,  that 
WISDOM,  and  genius,  and  goodness,  are  virtually 
combined,  and  form  a  moral  and  mental  union, 
which,  like  the  supreme  law  of  God,  seems  insepa- 
rable and  immutable. 

The  feeling  heart,  and  profound  mind,  as  most 
sensible,  and  best  instructed,  will  usually  be  most 
perfect  in  the  performance  of  every  moral  obliga- 
tion ;  and  the  deep  thought  of  sublime  intellect, 
in  correcting  the  temper,  and  improving  the  prin- 
ciples, must  amend  the  heart. 

As  converse  to  these,  the  plans  and  practices  of 
evil  propensities,  vile  morals,  and  wicked  habits, 
may  and  do  in  their  tendency,  confound  the  weaker 
understanding,  confuse  the  memory,  and  contract 
the  imagination  ;  blunting  all  that  is  acute  in  such 
a  mind,  except  cunning — prostrating  all  that  is  ele- 
vated in  its  character,  except  arrogance. 

As  the  best  cultivated  soil  of  a  fine  climate,  will 
disclose  the  brightest  flowers,  the  richest  foliage, 
and  the  most  generous  fruit ; — as  the  neglected 


175 

weed  has  no  hurtful  power  over  the  tall  and  luxu- 
riant shrub — as  the  serpent  with  the  venom  of  his 
envy,  can  but  strike  the  surface,  without  reaching 
the  heart,  or  injuring  the  root  of  the  mighty  oak 
which  he  encircles;  even  thus,  the  vanities  and 
passions  and  vices  of  life  are  seldom  found  to  de- 
teriorate, and  never  known  to  annihilate  the  mo- 
rals of  a  lofty  mind. 

Many  characters  might  be  adduced  from  oral  as 
from  written  history,  confirming  the  simple  truism, 
that  genius,  with  all  his  nervous  sensibility,  is  mo- 
rally happier,  and  practically  better,  than  the  fool- 
ish and  the  vile. 

Newton,  of  intellect  the  most  exalted,  and  the 
most  studious,  was  gentle,  patient,  and  the  most 
morally  good  of  mortals.  Locke,  pre-eminent  in 
wisdom,  virtuous  and  kind  hearted.  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  the  great  artist  and  fine  writer,  was  from 
his  habitual  mildness,  assimilated  to  a  lamb.  Spen- 
cer, Hume,  Robertson,  Gibbon,  Burke,  and  Herschel, 
beloved,  approved,  and  admired.  Even  amongst 
the  fiery  French,  we  read  of  the  saintly  Fenelon, 
the  mild  Helvetius,  the  virtuous  Bujfon,  the  moral 
Montesquieu,  and  the  tender  Marmontel. 

All  who  read  history  have  the  power  to  select 
thousands,  the  above  being  simply  preferred  as 
names  best  known,  and  most  familiar. 

How  amiably  good,  and  sublimely  eloquent,  the 
female  mind  may  become,  under  the  influence  of 
indulged  genius  and  accurate  instruction,  was  illus- 
trated in  a  former  Essay,  and  it  only  remains  for 
the  reader  and  the  writer  to  go,  and  do  likewise. 


176 

STANZAS, 

INSCRIBED  TO   THE   ORATOR   OF   THE   CENTURY.  (1) 


TULLIUS,  when  on  thy  serious  ear, 

Descends,  of  praise  the  untutored  strain, 

When,  at  thy  word,  the  admiring  tear 
Pours  homage,  seldom  pour'd  in  vain  -r 

Canst  thou,  in  modest  wisdom,  calm 
Mindless  of  what  the  million  say, 

Turn  from  its  gaze  the  speaking  charm 
Of  eyesy  that  meet  no  kindred  ray. 

Hast  thou,  when  PLENTY'S  crowded  shell 
Was  pour'd  for  thee,  and  sought  thy  care, 

Disdain'd  within  HER  courts  to  dwell 
If  bounty  were  not  inmate  there  ? 

Let  others  on  the  brow  confer 
Wreaths  to  immortal  genius  due, 

Thee — would  the  simplest  muse  prefer 
In  feelings — more  than  genius — true. 

For  thou,  with  pity's  holy  flame, 
Hast  warmed  the  charities  benign, 

Scorning  of  sordid  care  the  claim, 
Hast  made  the  richest  virtues  thine. 

To  thee  the  gem  of  fame  is  given, 
Thine  is  the  grateful  heart's  regard, 

The  blessing — and  the  prayer  to  heaven 
For  thee— are  more  than  earth's  reward. 


177 

WOMAN. 

ESSAY  xir. 

THE  influence  of  Woman  in  society,  is  most  gene- 
rally apportioned  to  her  personal  charms,  and  if 
accomplishments  of  mind,  and  elegance  of  manner 
be  united  to  these,  the  fair  mortal,  exalted  to  a  di- 
vinity, receives  worship  and  adoration,  in  praises, 
and  prayers,  and  sacrifices. 

Yet  so  fallacious  are  the  very  best  promises  of 
life,  that  this  brightness  of  beauty  seems,  in  shin- 
ing, but  to  expose,  or  mislead ;  hence  the  most 
lovely  are,  even  when  unerring,  usually  among  the 
most  unfortunate  of  women ;  either  as  the  victims 
of  married,  or  of  solitary  existence. 

Where  beauty  is,  and  love  is  not,  envy  comes, 
and  fastidious  criticism  follows.  Talents  are  term- 
ed pretence,  or  accused  of  ostentation.  If  mo- 
destly conversable,  she  is  deemed  conceited.  If 
timidly  silent — stupid.  The  graciousness  of  true 
delicacy  is  held  as  affectation ;  reserve  imputed  to 
pride,  and  the  heavenly  smile  of  native  attrac- 
tion, given  to  coquetry:  while  the  langour  of  dis- 
gust and  distress,  resulting  from  baffled  hopes,  and 
counteracted  affections,  is  considered  a  false  dis- 
play of  interest,  and  assuming  refinement. 

Such  are  the  evil  passions  of  the  great  world, 
f/iere,  Beauty  finds  but  few  friends,  and  accomplish- 
ment many  foes  ;  and  yet,  contradictory  as  it  may 
seem,  the  attraction  of  young  and  innocent  love- 
liness cannot  ultimately  be  resisted.  The  mag- 
23 


178 

net  of  her  influence  not  only  impels  the  strong 
and  polished  steel  of  masculine  mind,  but  like  the 
pure  and  precious  composition  of  amber,  attracts 
and  collects  the  more  worthless  and  volatile  sub- 
stances of  the  earth. 

At  the  same  time,  and  under  every  circumstance, 
for  her,  envy  always  lives,  and  never  disappears ; 
the  enchantment  of  her  influence  can  neither  dis- 
arm the  fury,  nor  avert  its  detractions,  nor  com- 
mand her  own  destiny  to  rise  beyond  the  reach 
of  any  earthly  misfortune. 

If  of  youthful  and  accomplished  Beauty,  such 
are  the  fortunes  and  the  fate  ;  neither  is  it  thought 
that  happiness  will  come  with  faded  bloom,  and 
bringing  the  oblivion  of  wrongs;  since,  when  no 
longer  young,  like  dethroned  monarchs,  born  to  ar- 
bitrary power,  it  is  as  difficult  for  the  abdicated 
beauty  to  forego  authority,  and  to  feel  submission, 
as  it  is  for  the  loyal  arid  obedient  lover,  living  on 
retrospection,  to  bestow  the  homage  of  his  passion- 
ate regard  on  the  mere  dream  of  long  extinguished 
glory. 

But  safety,  and  serenity,  may,  at  this  period  be 
her  own,  if  not  rejected  for  the  vain  hope  of  yet 
reaping  the  exhausted  field  of  conquest ;  where 
wounds,  defeat,  and  consequently  disgrace,  are  the 
only  remaining  harvest. 

In  fine,  let  the  sensible  amiable  woman,  who 
pleases  without  the  sorcery  of  personal  charms, 
and  who  can  interest  by  manners,  mind  and  morals, 
reflect,  that  if  her  empire  be  less  supreme  than  that 
of  unfortunate  beauty,  it  has  more  of  peace,  and 
is  of  greater  duration,  less  of  bitterness  and  in- 


179 

evitable  disaster.  Since  to  her,  the  world  is  kind ; 
it  grants  to  her  affections  the  reward  of  fidelity — 
it  allows  to  her  misfortunes  the  loyalty  of  respect — 
it  concedes  to  her  virtues  the  tribute  of  approba- 
tion. 


MARRIAGE. 

ESSAY  XV. 

MAN  looks  for  honour  and  for  happiness,  and 
with  these  in  view,  he  marries.  That  disappoint- 
ment may  not  cross  his  path,  let  him  reason  on  ef- 
fects, and  in  his  wanderings  and  through  his  seekings, 
be  not  unmindful  of  consistency  and  coincidence. 

She  who  has  proved  an  observant  daughter,  and 
been  an  obliging  sister,  cannot  fail  of  becoming  a 
true  and  amiable  wife ;  as,  having  held  sacred  the 
native  charities,  she  will  not  slight  those  which  so- 
ciety has  instituted. 

Having  studied  and  learned,  to  confer  with  wil- 
lingness, and  to  comply  with  readiness,  she  will 
equally  understand  where  to  command  with  in- 
truction,  and  how  to  preside  with  decorum ;  and 
in  respecting  the  mild  duties  of  domestic  subordina- 
tion, display  the  dignified  gentleness  of  real  au- 
thority. 

Has  she  practiced  and  preferred  the  simplicity  of 
elegant  neatness,  as  beyond  the  lustre  of  costly 
decoration  ?  she  will,  in  her  household,  prove  more 
regardful  of  economical  propriety,  than  of  osten- 
tatious display. 


180 

While  in  her  heart  religion  is  a  sentiment,  af- 
fianced to  the  sanctity  of  morals,  she  will  give 
meekness  and  moderation  to  mark  its  course,  and 
to  prescribe  its  limits :  while  that  attentive  useful- 
ness, which  in  all  things  regards  the  relative  and 
the  social,  remains  the  best  hand-maid  of  rectitude 
and  propriety. 

Has  she  honoured  her  first  home,  in  feeling 
that  her  kindest  duty  and  her  first  good  principles 
originated  there  ?  surely  she  will  never  permit  that 
duty  and  those  principles  to  wander  from  her  bet- 
ter and  more  permanent  establishment. 

The  woman  who  has  known,  and  does  in  all 
truth,  follow  the  precept  of  such  opinions,  and 
is  happily  selected  by  the  husband  of  her  love, 
and  obtains  in  that  husband,  a  guardian,  and 
guide,  of  kind  and  capable  superiority ;  a  friend, 
trusting  and  assiduous,  an  affection,  undeviating  and 
unsuspecting ;  let  him  not  doubt  that  his  will  be 
the  home  of  HONOUR,  and  of  HAPPINESS  :  since  among 
the  events  of  human  life,  nothing  is  more  unusual 
than  the  dereliction  of  a  strictly  educated  woman, 
who  has  realized  in  the  object  of  her  preference, 
goodness,  confidence,  fidelity  and  protection. 

For  a  woman  thus  taught,  and  thus  habituated, 
is  tender  and  grateful ;  she  feels,  and  she  sympa- 
thizes ;  she  reflects  and  she  benefits— her  desire 
to  merit  estimation,  and  her  hope  to  obtain  respect ; 
for  she  well  knows  that  in  the  moral  observances 
there  is  worth  and  reputation  ;  but  her  heart  also 
aspires  to  the  blessings  of  honour  and  of  happiness  ; 
from  the  possession  of  which,  if  she  have  deli- 
cacy, she  dare  not,  and  if  she  have  understanding, 
ghe  does  not  wander. 


181 

Yet  should  the  donation  of  that  honour  which 
regards,  and  the  possession  of  that  happiness  which 
rewards,  be  denied  to  her  virtues,  when  her  pure 
and  sensible  heart  awakens  to  hope,  and  animates 
to  reciprocation ;  is  it  harrowed  by  disappointment, 
and  distressed  by  dissimilarity  ?  is  it  defrauded  of 
that  protection,  and  refused  that  fidelity,  which  she 
sought,  in  which  she  trusted,  and  would  gratefully 
and  eternally  have  cherished ;  does  she  find  herself 
pitied  by  the  affectionate,  and  possibly  admired  by 
the  presumptuous;  at  once  pursued  and  repulsed — 
pure  in  conduct,  perhaps  beautiful  in  person — yet 
left  to  coldness,  neglect  and  desertion — what  re- 
medy remains? 

v  Even  that  of  her  own  approving  conscience  !  ,with 
the  high  estimation  of  the  good,  who  can  under- 
stand her  feelings  and  her  fate  ;  and  the  tender  and 
applauding  sentiment  of  the  benevolent,  who  are 
willing  to  sympathize  with  every  sufferer. 

THE  MILLION — blending  the  penalties  of  misfor- 
tune wTith  those  of  misconduct,  may,  in  their  ig- 
norance, mistake  the  true  meaning  of  such  a  mind, 
and  seeing  her  surrounded  by  attractions  and  follow- 
ed by  injuries,  even  think  it  possible  that  the  sa- 
credness  of  principle  would  not  rise  above  the  unit- 
ed influence  of  both ;  as  if  the  Almighty  had  not 
endowed  the  guileless  with  strength  apportioned  to 
their  trials. 

Yet  these — even  the  million — will  learn  to  know, 
and  in  knowing,  to  venerate,  where  veneration  m 
legitimately  due. 


182 

STANZAS, 

TO  A  RECENTLY  UNITED  HUSBAND. 


IN  VAIN,  upon  that  hand  reclined, 
I  call  each  plighted  worth  my  own. 

Or  rising  to  thy  sovereign  mind, 
Say  that  it  reigns  for  me  alone* 

Since,  subject  to  its  ardent  sway, 
How  many  hearts  were  left  to  weep, 

To  find  the  granted  wish  decay, 
And  the  triumphant  passion  sleep  ? 

Such  were,  of  love  the  transient  flame, 
Which  by  the  kindling  senses  led, 

To  every  new  attraction  came, 

And  from  the  known  endearment  fled. 

Unlike  the  gentle  care  that  flows, 
With  all  the  blest  affections  give, 

Unlike  the  generous  hope  that  knows 
But  for  a  kinder  self  to  live. 

Was  theirs  the  tender  glance  to  speak 
Timid,  through  many  a  sparkling  tear, 

The  ever  changing  hue  of  cheek, 
Its  flush  of  joy— its  chill  of  fear  ? 

Or  theirs  the  full  expanded  thought, 
By  taste  and  moral  sense  refined — 

Each  moment  with  instruction  fraught, 
The  tutored  elegance  of  mind  ? 

Be  mine  the  sacred  truth  that  dwells 
On  ONE,  by  kindred  virtues  known, 


183 

And  mine,  the  chastened  glance,  which  tell* 
That  sacred  truth  to  HIM  alone. 

No  sordid  hope's  insidious  guise, 
No  venal  pleasure's  serpent  twine, 

Invite  those  soul-illumined  eyes, 

And  blend  this  feeling  heart  with  thine. 


CONCILIATION. 


GRACED  be  the  hour  when  severed  friends  unite,/ 
And  loved  the  voice,  whose  softened  tones  endear, 

Where  the  eye  melting  in  its  morning  light, 
Dispels  the  cloud,  and  glistens  through  a  tear 

i  When  the  heart  freed  from  doubt's  entangling 
Nor  joys,  nor  sorrows,  but  with  pensive  care, 

\Speaks  to  the  wedded  heart,  in  sigh,  or  smile, 
And  feels  its  questioned  kindness  answer  there. 

While  the  regretful  silence  seems  to  plead, 
No  more  the  timid  hand  its  pledge  denies  ; 

No  more  shall  hurried  steps,  in  scorn  proceed, 
Nor  anger  flash  from  quick  averted  eyes. 

Steeled  was  the  breast,  that  with  a  felon's  heart, 

•  Could,  of  confiding  truth,  its  hope  bereave  ; 
Bid  those  whom  heaven  had  joined,  in  madness  part, 
Grieving  to  live — and  living  but  to  grieve. 

Reproach,  with  flushing  cheek,  and  phrenzied  brow, 

Sullen  suspicion's  cold  regardless  stare, 
Whence  is  thy  sway — and  where  that  midnight  now, 

Which  search'd  the  soul,  and  struck  its  horrors  there. 

TRUTH  came— and  as  the  Saviour's  glance  adored, 
Fell  on  the  sealed  eye,  with  opening  ray ;       / 


184 

Her  guiding  light  on  darkest  error  poured, 
Gives  mind  to  man,  and  clears  its  gloom  away. 

Gfives  him  to  know,  in  blessing,  to  be  blest, 

ONE  friend,  his  joys — his  portioned  griefs  to  share, 

To  find  his  refuge,  in  ONE  sheltering  breast, 
Source  of  his  hope — and  partner  of  his  care. 


LOVE   AND  LIKENESS. 

ESSJ3Y  XVI. 

WE  naturally  and  necessarily  love  our  own  like- 
ness, when  perceptible  in  another,  provided  that 
likeness  be  not  too  uniform ;  but  occasionally  di- 
versified by  qualities  of  positive  contrast. 

If  a  complete  opposition  be  repulsive,  a  perfect 
resemblance  is  insipid,  or  more  probably  offensive  : 
the  woman,  timid  and  irresolute,  looks  for  courage 
and  fortitude  in  her  lover ;  while  the  man,  obsti- 
nate and  peremptory,  desires  softness  and  forbea- 
rance in  the  object  of  his  honourable  choice. 

Be  his  temper  gloomy  and  misanthropic,  cour- 
teousness  and  Gdiete  de  cceur  are  the  qualities  to 
console  and  reconcile  him. 

Is  he  serious,  sedate,  and  sedentary  ?  Cheerful- 
ness, activity  and  assiduity,  are  essential.  Bold,  proud, 
and  irascible  ?  gentleness,  tenderness,  and  silent  ob- 
servance, will  controul,  or  at  least,  disarm  the  evil 
spirit ;  while  in  taste,  talents,  and  virtues,  the  clo- 
ser the  resemblance,  the  more  certain  the  sympa- 


185 


thy,  and  the  more  permanent  the  union  of  love, 
friendship,  honour  and  respect. 

Wisdom,  integrity,  delicacy,  and  talent,  cannot 
continue  happy,  in  alliance  with  ignorance,  folly, 
rudeness  and  deviation,  though  the  mere  external 
senses  may,  for  a  season,  find  delight  in  that  beauty, 
by  which  these  are  possibly  decorated.  Much  less 
can  goodness  and  gentleness  bear  or  brook  the  as- 
sociation of  positive  vice,  and  presuming  brutality. 

In  fine,  to  love  truly  and  constantly,  the  parties 
should  resemble,  but  not  reflect  each  other.  Op- 
posing discords  may  sometimes  have  effect  in  mu- 
sic, but  it  is  only  by  concords  of  sweet  and  blended 
variety,  that  the  strains  of  human  affections  are 
made  to  harmonize. 


INSCRIPTION. 

FOUND  AT  CHANTILLY,  ON  AN  ALTAR  OF  WHITE  MARBLE,  IN  THE 
ISLAND  OF  LOVE,  A  BEAUTIFUL  SPOT  IN  THE  GARDENS  SURROUND- 
ING THE  CHATEAU,  BELONGING  TO  THE  PRINCE  OF  CONDE. 


N'offrbnt  qu'on  cceur  a  la  beautS, 
Aussi  nud  que  LA  VERITE  ; 
Sans  ailes  comme  LA  CONSTANCE — 
Sans  armes  comme  L'!NNOCENCE  ! 
Tei  fut  L' AMOUR  dans  le  siecle  d'or, 
On  ne  le  trouve  plus,  mais  on  le  chercher  encore. 

THUS   PARAPHRASED,    AT    THE    REQUEST    OF    A    YOUNG      FRIEND. 

HERE  at  Beauty's  graceful  shrine, 
Thy  devoted  heart  resign: 
24 


186 

Let  the  willing  offering  be 
Unwinged  as  changeless  CONSTANCY. 
Like  TRUTH  unrobed  to  every  sense, 
— Unarmed  as  infant  INNOCENCE. 
Such  by  fabling  bards  wer'e  told, 
Love  appeared  in  age  of  gold, 
Such  no  more — the  God,  we  find, 
Always  courted — never  kind. 
For  now  the  wanton  child  is  seen, 
With  veiling  vesture,  fraudful  mien, 
Around  his  philter ed  arrow  flings, 
And  cleaves  the  air  with  truant  wings, 


PHYSIOGNOMY. 

ESSAY  XVIL 

IT  has  been  objected,  M.  LAVATER  wants  sys- 
tem. To  me  his  work  has  seemed  altogether  sys- 
tematic and  artificial. 

Although  each  particular  principle  appear  to 
originate  in  the  mere  dream  of  imagination,  yet 
with  that  dream,  he  theorizes,  until  every  frag- 
ment seemingly  has  its  aim  and  its  end,  while  his 
details  are  minute  and  spun  out  so  fine,  that  through 
mere  feebleness  in  finishing,  the  thread  of  the  ar- 
gument, is  seldom  entire,  but  rather,  through  its  va- 
rious twistings,  liable  to  be  broken. 

If  the  detached  features  of  forehead,  eyes,  nose 
and  mouth,  are  pleasingly  correct,  yet  when  he 
unites  these  in  order  to  form  a  perfect  whole,  sel- 
dom, perhaps  never  does  such  union  produce  either 
the  beautiful  or  the  interesting. 


187 

And  yet  his  theory  is  specious,  though  in  its 
elements  ideal,  and  certainly  not  verified  by  actual 
every  day's  observation ;  since  that  theory  is  found 
to  particularize,  when  it  ought  to  generalize,  con- 
necting genius  or  virtue,  or  temper,  with  a  precise 
form  of  individual  feature,  when  experience  shows 
that  those  may  exist  under  every  construction,  co- 
lour and  stature,  that  are  human. 

To  the  simple  judgment  of  the  present  writer 
it  has  seemed,  that  the  moral  habits,  the  disposition, 
the  understanding,  and  the  passions,  give  expres- 
sion, and  in  effect,  stamp  character  on  the  features, 
without  changing  the  tints,  or  altering  the  strong 
lineaments  of  original  nature.  Hence  under  the 
personal  deformities  of  Gibbon,  Johnson,  Pope, 
Esop,  and  the  divine  Socrates  himself,  men  of  in- 
spired understanding,  and  of  sublime  moral  at- 
tainments were  found;  neither  does  it  appear  that 
the  indulgence,  the  dissipation,  the  passions,  or  the 
genius  of  Alcibiades,  Edward  the  fourth  of  Eng- 
land, Spencer,  Milton,  and  Bolingbroke,  could  dis- 
turb or  distort  the  surpassing,  but  dissimilar  beauty 
of  their  divinely  intelligent  faces. 

But  M.  Lavater  is  still  found  iterating  and  reite- 
rating, that  to  such,  and  such  specific  form  of  fea- 
ture, displayed  in  his  sketch,  we  may  always  look 
for  the  alliance  of  goodness  or  talent,  or  refine- 
ment ;  as  on  the  reverse,  for  stupidity,  or  base- 
ness, or  vulgarity. 

And  yet,  if  at  the  first  attentive  observation  of 
an  individual,  hitherto  unknown,  we  receive  sensi- 
ble impressions,  or  form  actual  opinions,  it  is  with- 
out mental  reference,  or  critical  regard  to  the 
complex  laws  of  Lavater. 


188 

As  Physiognomy  is  a  sentiment,  even  in  nature, 
of  which  the  infant  Avho  cannot  reason,  and  the 
brute  animal  who  only  fawns  and  fears,  are  sus- 
ceptible, Ave  are  gratefully  attracted  by  certain 
characteristic  features,  and  painfully  repelled  by 
others ;  but  does  this  impulsion,  or  that  repulsion, 
surely  indicate  either  virtue,  or  vice,  in  the  subject 
of  our  attention  ?  Is  it  not  rather  the  result  of 
something  that  assimilates  with  our  aversions,  or 
sympathizes  with  our  propensities  ?  for  sure,  though 
perhaps  secret,  is  the  prepossession  we  feel  for 
what  bears  our  likeness,  provided  that  likeness  be 
not  in  effect,  a  fac-simile ;  and  the  resemblings, 
somewhat  diversified,  are  the  result  of  simple  na- 
ture, without  design  or  affectation. 

Does  not  the  most  irresistible  likeness  exist  in 
sketches  of  Caricatura  ?  yet  who  would  choose 
to  be  delineated  after  that  fashion  ?  And  what  is 
more  offending  than  the  mimickry  of  our  manner 
and  attitude,  unless,  indeed,  it  be  the  constant  echo 
of  our  uttered  sentiments,  when  another,  adopting 
what  we  have  spoken,  and  possibly  spoken  well, 
is  guilty  of  the  verbal  plagiarism  of  making  this 
their  own,  at  the  next  chance  conversation ;  by 
which  fraudulent  conveyance,  we  are  liable  to  hear 
our  original  ideas  quoted  under  the  sanction  of  an- 
other's name  ;  and  in  addition  to  the  alarm  thus 
given  to  our  pride,  is  that  of  the  more  selfish  af- 
fections, as  if  we  were  cheated  not  only  of  what 
might  be  denominated  personal  property,  but  hav- 
ing surreptitiously  snatched  from  us  our  very  legiti- 
mate offspring. 

In  fine — to  recapitulate — it  appears  that  certain 


189 


individuals  of  the  human  race  are  so  instinctively* 
that  is,  irresistibly  attracted,  and  attached,  at  sight 
of  each  other,  that  like  the  bloom,  and  perfume 
of  flowers,  or  particular  notes  in  music,  they  seem 
intended  by  nature  to  assimilate,  and  as  of  neces-* 
sity  to  accord  together. 

Indisputably,  the  virtuous  will  love  virtue,  and 
admire  its  influence,  under  every  form  and  fea- 
ture ;  while  the  vicious,  in  fearing,  would  rather 
abhor  its  delineations. 

That  the  passions  do  surely  impress,  and  for  a 
time  distort,  is  readily  conceded  ;  but  that  these  can 
displace,  or  irrevocably  destroy  the  original  colour, 
or  construction  of  forehead,  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth  ; 
giving  to  Grecian  symmetry  of  feature,  and  deli- 
cacy of  contour,  the  broad  irregularity  of  African 
deformity,  is  as  surely  denied ;  it  being  equally 
true  that  wickedness  may  be  born,  and  continue  ta 
exist  beneath  a  beautiful  exterior;  nor  can  any 
power  or  possession  of  human  genius,  or  habitual 
goodness  render  the  originally  squalid  and  distort^ 
ed  countenance,  lovely  and  attractive. 

Truth  cannot  be  founded  on  deception,  neither 
in  striving  to  improve  the  understanding,  and  to 
amend  the  principles,  should  we  expect  miracles 
for  ourselves,  or  predict  prodigies  for  others. 

We  are,  individually,  as  GOD  in  his  infinite  wis- 
dom has  created  us  ;  and  such  shall  we  remain, 
with  the  sole  exception  'of  being  instructed  and 
improved,  or  depraved  and  degraded  by  time,  ef- 
fort, or  accident ;  the  physiognomy  at  a  certain 
age  usually  expressing  the  sentiment,  or  betraying 
the  passion. 


190 

Yet,  since  nothing  in  our  material  or  mental  ex- 
istence, remains  stationary  ;  the  characters  which 
were  written,  and  read,  on  the  features  yesterday, 
may  be  blotted  out  to-morrow,  or  bring  new  ideas 
in  another  language  to  the  coming  observer,  as  in- 
definite to  mature  judgment,  as  unjust  to  correct 
principle. 


ON  THE  UNION  OF  OPPOSING  PRO- 
PENSITIES. 

ESSAY  XV11L 

•» 

IF  in  minds  of  violent,  or  perverse  feeling,  there 
usually  exists  some  "  master  passion  which  swallows 
up  the  rest"  not  unfrequently  does  it  occur  'that 
two  discordant  propensities,  meeting,  in  the  same 
temperament,  maintain  an  alternate  vibration,  with- 
out either  of  them  becoming  absolutely  ascendant. 

Such  are  vanity  and  avarice ;  if  both  happen  to 
exist  with  extreme  violence,  the  demands  of  the 
one  being  positively  hostile  to  the  cravings  of  the 
other — yet  in  dwelling  together — these  will  final- 
ly constitute  the  less  averse  sensations  of  rapa- 
ciousness,  and  prodigality;  which  last  are  so  of- 
ten united,  as  to  seem  incapable  of  total  and  long 
continued  separation. 

And  this  may  be  accounted  for,  by  considering 
both  as  secondary,  rather  than  as  primary  pas- 
sions, their  foundation  being  laid  in  the  excess  of 
individual  selfishness ;  which,  accumulating  but  to 


191 

display  or  to  dissipate,  in  the  present  rapine  sees 
and  enjoys  the  future  wasting. 

Economy  being  the  true  parent  of  liberality,  to 
reserve  is  to  bestow;  and  the  luxuries,  which 
we  refuse  to  ourselves,  in  pleasures  and  in  super- 
fluities, may  be  converted  into  comforts  for  the 
more  worthy,  or,  at  least,  for  the  more  miserable. 

Neither  are  extravagance  and  sordid  meanness 
of  very  distant  relationship  :  In  regularity  consists 
order ;  in  order,  neatness ;  in  neatness,  purity  and 
proprieties.  But  dissipating  extravagance  has  no 
leisure  for  these,  and  hence,  do  we  frequently  see 
a  vain  action  sanctioned  or  retrieved  by  a  vile  sub- 
terfuge > 

And  yet  more  extraordinary  is  the  positive  un- 
ion of  the  cunning  with  the  irascible,  since  the  in- 
temperance of  a  passion  usually  betrays  itself,  not 
only  by  the  countenance,  and  the  tones  of  the 
voice,  but  in  the  attitudes  of  the  body,  in  its  ges- 
tures and  in  its  rest  ;  hence  the  irascible  is  bold, 
eager  and  fiery ;  while  the  dissembler  appears 
soft,  pliant,  slow,  and  observing — the  irascible 
strikes  without  deigning  to  hear — the  cunning  is 
more  anxious  to  counteract  than  to  control,  and 
less  assiduous  to  break  down,  than  to  undermine. 

Yet  there  are,  in  whose  treacherous  wrath  may 
be  found  a  consuming  fire,  armed  with  two-fold 
destruction,  and  in  whose  wrathful  treachery  reigns 
a  self  controul,'  which  can  smile  and  smile  when 
most  intent  on  ruin. 

There  are,  who  regardless  of  integrity,  and 
making  falsehood  the  instrument  of  vengeance,  are 
so  implacable  as  never  to  pardon  even  an  imaginary 


192 

injury — one  whose  voice,  under  fearless  irritation,  is 
louder  than  the  whirlwind ;  while  at  other  mo- 
ments, softened  to  a  feigned  tone,  it  never  risks  the 
accent  of  original  nature — as  if  to  disclose  a  feel- 
ing, were  to  betray  a  failing. 

Take  heed  of  those,  who  modulate  in  order  to 
conceal — and  look  well  to  that  countenance  whose 
superior  attributes  of  eyes,  and  forehead,  are  mark- 
ed by  violence,  while  the  lower  visage  always 
smiles.  Observe  the  constant  movement  of  the 
lip,  particularly  if  it  be  'thin  and  retreating;  for 
features  such  as  these,  even  in  silence,  speak  the 
vindictive  or  the  treacherous,  formed  or  fixed  by 
the  ruling  passion  of  the  mind. 

Yet  surely,  whenever  the  opposing  propensities 
of  cunning  and  irascibility  happen  to  meet,  the  for- 
mer may  be  expected  to  obtain  and  preserve  the 
superiority,  covering  itself  and  its  associate  from  su- 
perficial observers ;  however,  when  brought  to  the 
test,  the  latter  may  seem  in  violence  triumphant. 

Happily  such  union  is  of  rare  occurrence,  and  of 
no  less  easy  detection,  when  placed  beneath  the 
penetrating  eye  of  true  honour  and  real  capacity. 


BEAUTY   AND  ELOQUENCE. 

ESSAY  XIX. 

CALL  not  that  thought  absurd,  which  repeats  the 
assertion,  that  Beauty,  interesting  and  sublime,  is 
not  confined  exclusively  to  the  fair  morning  of 


193 

life,  no  more  than  the  divine  gift  of  eloquence  is 
limited  to  the  mere  verbal  utterance  ©f  noble  ideas. 

In  the  compositions  of  superiour  mind,  in  the 
melting  eje  of  sorrow,  in  the  brilliant  smile  of  hap- 
piness, and  above  all,  in  the  great  works  of  GOD, 
there  is  eloquence  touching  to  the  heart,  and  speak- 
ing to  the  soul. 

Also  in  declining  age>  on  whose  broad  and  ex- 
pansive forehead,  wisdom  is  seen  mingling  with 
benevolence,  whose  softened  and  reflective  eye 
speaks  passion  subdued,  arid  virtue  preferred,  there 
is  transcendant  beauty. 

And  not  less  in  the  mild  dignity,  the  repose,  and 
the  persuasive  sympathy,  which,  even  at  alafe  pe- 
riod of  female  existence,  is  sometimes  seen  united 
with  an  expression  of  goodness  so  tenderj  and  of  in- 
tellectual intelligence  so  true,  and  so  instructive,  at 
once  attractive  and  commanding,  as  to  excite  emo- 
tions of  delight  not  altogether  dissimilar  to  the  sen- 
timent inspired  at  the  first  glance  of  young  and  in- 
genuous loveliness.  For  these,  by  the  admiration, 
respect,  affection  and  voluntary  submission  which 
they  inspire  come  to  the  external  senses,  as  beings 
particularly  loved,  and  lent  by  God,  to  whose  per- 
fection they  seem  allied,  and  to  whose  heaven 
they  are  approaching. 


25 


194 


.  STANZAS. 

WRITTEN  ON  A  SOCIAL  VISIT  TO  THE  RETIRED  PATRIOT,  JOHN  ADAMS, 
LATE  PRESIDENT  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


BLEST  PATRIOT  !  in  life's  evening  hour, 
Seen  like  the  sacred  sun's  decline, 

Sublime,  as  when  with  sovereign  power, 
The  noon  of  glorious  deeds  was  thine. 

Still  bless'd  amid  thy  graced  retreat, 
To  win  the  speaking  glance  of  praise, 

To  feel  that  love  with  homage  sweet, 
The  tribute  of  thy  virtue  pays. 

Bless'd,  that  to  wound  thy  wearied  ear, 
No  flatterer  comes,  with  traitor  mind, 

But  honour,  as  thy  soul  sincere, 

And  friendship,  like  thine  accent  kind. 

How  bless'd  o'er  ocean's  yielding  tides, 
Thy  nation's  victor-flag  to  see, 

Exulting — as  her  navy  rides, 

To  claim  the  glorious  birth  from  thce. 

And  blest  that  truths  unerring  page, 

Shall  ALL  thy  great  achievements  give, 
Memorials  of  a  nobler  age, 

In   IMMORTALITY   to  live. 


195 
AGE. 

ESS  A  Y  XX. 

rl  HERE  are,  who,  as  they  advance  onward  tiU'- 
the  crowded  path  of  life,  appear  wearied,  gloomy, 
and  unkindly ;  while  in  others,  the  passionate  de- 
sire of  social  intercourse,  is  seen  to  increase  and 
expand,  under  the  heavy  burden  of  additional  years. 

These  contrasting  extremes  are  surely  born  of 
the  same  fatal  certainty,  which  brings  resources 
lessened,  and  hopes  obscured,  or  impoverished — if 
not  entirely  dissolved. 

There  yet  remains  a  third  class,  on  whom  life 
advances,  crowned  with  wisdom,  and  graced  by 
amenity ;  to  whom  the  world  and  its  fortunes  have 
neither  seemed  too  sweet  nor  too  bitter :  for  these, 
nature  having  been  kind,  and  destiny  not  cruel, 
while  life  continues,  it  will  not  be  lamented,  nor 
lost — neither  for  themselves,  nor  to  others. 

Cheerful,  charitable,  social,  and  sedate,  these 
have  known  and  loved  the  true  pleasures  of  life, 
without  worshipping  its  vanities ;  and  in  cherish- 
ing the  real  virtues  of  the  world,  have  neither 
tolerated  its  vices,  rested  on  its  delusions,  nor  sac- 
rificed to  its  votaries. 


196 
TOWN  AND  COUNTRY, 

ESSd  Y  XXI. 

THE  Country  originates  from  God,  but  the  City 
was  constructed  by  man,  is  an  old  adage  ;  hence  Vice, 
and  its  inevitable  companion  misery,  are  seen 
springing  up,  like  poisonous  plants,  amid  pestilence 
and  population. 

The  splendid  mansion  is  lighted,  and  the  ban- 
quet prepared ;  every  cover  of  which,  buries  deep 
in  its  bosom  the  seeds  of  infirmity,  or  the  venom 
of  disease. 

Luxury  having  invited  excess,  wit,  and  taste,  and 
talent,  and  genius  itself,  may  be  seen  to  bow  be- 
neath their  united  influence  ;  an  influence  mighty 
— perhaps  irresistible,  but  not  of  necessity  irre- 
trievable ;  since  for  the  enlightened  and  the  ho- 
nourable, repentance  may  arrive,  and  reform  must 
follow.  Not  thus  the  poor  menial,  amid  the  revels 
of  his  midnight  cellar,  at  whose  orgies,  profaneness 
never  tires,  and  peace  never  comes— -but  to  the 
oblivion  of  ebriety. 

Has  the  rich  man  found  that  precept  could 
counteract  example,  or  fair  words  silence  the  re- 
morse of  dark  deeds? 

The  wise  and  the  virtuous,  may  possibly  say  to 
his  conscience,  "  thus  far  shalt  thou  go,  and  no  far- 
ther ;"  but  what  shall  restrain  the  ignorant,  the 
abject,  and  the  unreflecting? 

If  the  peril  of  cities  thus  encircle  and  degrade 
the  moral  being,  is  the  mere  animal  existence  of 


197 

man  more  safe  where  the  atmosphere,  moistened 
by  mephitic  vapours,  or  parching  under  particles 
of  black  dust,  and  without  elasticity,  occasions  the 
fevered  heart  to  sigh  for  the  soft  green  of  repose, 
with  the  freshness,  and  bloom,  and  beauty,  of  na- 
ture's sole  residence  ? 

Does  not  the  hope  and  thought  of  every  man's 
life,  terminate  the  relief  of  retirement  ? 

Does  not  his  eye  languish  for  verdure,  and  his 
heart  gladden,  and  glow,  and  expand,  as  he  moves 
among  fields,  and  groves,  and  gardens  ? 

What  is  more  sweet  than  the  warble  of  the 
early  bird — what  so  kind,  so  honest,  so  welcome, 
as  the  greetings  of  the  rustic  upon  the  return  of 
Spring  ? 

Are  not  the  very  dreams  of  sleep  interesting  in 
proportion  to  their  power  of  giving  the  imagina- 
tion to  scenes  of  rural  felicity? — trees,  fruits,  and 
flowers  ? 

What  idea  do  we  annex  to  the  word  Paradise  f 
Dinners  elegant  and  splendid,  crowded  halls,  and 
midnight  conviviality,  where  the  soul  sickens,  and 
the  senses  are  sated  to  dissolution  ?  or  verdure, 
bloom  and  extent,  where  the  gifts  of  nature  never 
fade,  and  those  of  time  never  weary  ? 

If  the  moral  and  religious  character  of  man  be 
most  pure  where  the  temptations  of  vice  are  few, 
and  the  attractions  of  virtue  with  the  associations 
of  utility,  many  and  marked — these  preeminently 
exist,  where  every  flower  that  breathes,  every  tree 
that  bears,  and  every  grain  of  corn  that  ripens, 
bows  down  the  obedient  heart  with  gratitude  and 


198 

love  to  the  great  first  cause  of  all  good  and  of  every 
benefit — while  with  health  of  body,  and  yet  more 
precious  health  of  mind,  anticipating  longevity,  the 
individual  lives  to  contentment — declines  amid  com- 
forts—and dies  into  happiness. 

Even  the  essential  inequalities  of  condition,  are 
less  invidious,  because  less  perceptible,  where  the 
proprietor  accompanies  the  labourer  to  his  field,  and 
assists,  and  consults,  and  sometimes  even  submits 
his  theory  to  the  simple  wisdom  of  experience. 

Neither  does  it  seem  possible  for  the  faithful 
mind  and  feeling  heart,  to  live  amid  the  kindness, 
the  comfort,  and  the  occupation,  which  belong  to 
rural  scenery,  without  conciliated  sentiments  of 
philanthropy,  and  forgiveness  to  man — piety,  sub- 
mission, and  devoted  love  to  GOD. 

STANZAS. 


I  LIKE — it  is  my  choice  to  live  unseen — 
Unsought — by  all  whom  busy  eyes  admire, 

To  watch  the  brightening  germ,  the  deepening  green, 
And  from  the  glare  of  vertic  wealth  retire. 

I  like  the  gracious  spring — the  summer  gay — 
The  autumn,  in  his  every  bounty  kind, 

The  social  winter's  unpretending  day, 

The  kindly  converse,  and  the  modest  mind. 

What  is  to  me  the  city's  revel  throng, 
I  love  the  sighing  of  the  solemn  grove, 

The  soft  half  warble  of  the  twilight  song, 
The  fragrant  eve's  reflective  calm,  I  love. 


199 


If  friends  have  passed,  and  sorrows  found  their  place, 
And  the  hurt  mind  laments  its  lone  career, 

If  lost  of  life  the  sunshine  and  the  grace, 
Yet  may  one  tender  gleam  of  hope  appear. 

Where  the  crushed  thought  can  find  a  voice,  and  where 
Some  healthful  pleasure  on  the  sick  heart  rise 

Some  living  loveliness — some  buried  care, 

Warm  the  cold  cheek,  and  light  the  languid  eyes ! 


SERVANTS. 

ESSAY  XXII. 

IP  our  servants  depend  upon  us,  no  less  do  we 
rely  upon  them  ;  indeed  they  could  generally  live 
without  our  patronage,  better  than  we  without 
their  services,  since  they  can  exist  without  luxuries, 
and  without  the  attendant  aid  of  others. 

Let  the  arrogant  be  reminded,  that  accident,  not 
merit,  has  formed  the  difference  in  birth,  in  sta- 
tion, and  in  fortune  ;  that  the  menial  may  possibly 
have  feelings  of  body,  and  sensations  of  mind,  simi- 
lar to  those  of  his  superiour ;  be  as  conscious  of 
kindness,  as  afflicted  by  injury,  as  indignant  at  in- 
sult, and  as  exasperated  by  outrage,  even  as  the 
most  prosperous. 

We  may  depress  those  who  serve,  but  not  with 
impunity,  for  in  some  way  they  will  certainly  re- 
criminate. 

Yet,  in  meriting  their  good  will,  by  merciful  jus- 
tice in  their  labours,  and  compassionate  attention 


200 

to  their  sickness  and  their  sorrows,  the  rewards  of 
observance,  fidelity,  and  affection,  will  seldom  be 
withheld. 

Partially  responsible,  in  our  own  persons,  for  the 
comfort,  the  conduct,  the  manners,  and  the  morals 
of  our  household  ;  instruction,  which  comes  graced 
both  by  precept,  and  by  example,  will  not  always 
be  lost,  and  under  any  event  to  ourselves  must 
bring  the  happy  consciousness  of  well  doing,  should 
that  of  grateful  affection  be  refused. 

Upon  the  pressure  of  services,  explanation,  rea- 
son, and  even  apology,  would  usually  bring  willing- 
ness, alacrity,  and  prompt  obedience. 

In  this,  no  allusion  can  be  had  to  the  very  de- 
praved, but  rather  to  those  domesticks  whose  indi- 
vidual merits,  and  personal  mistakes,  approach  and 
assimilate  to  our  own. 

If,  under  the  mental  tuition  which  may  have 
been  lavished  on  our  educated  lives,  we  have  fail- 
ed in  the  attainment  of  perfection — have  we  a 
right,  or  is  it  reasonable  to  exact,  or  to  expect  that 
perfection  from  a  being,  upon  whose  darkened  in- 
tellect the  light  of  moral  beauty  was  never  per- 
mitted to  descend ! 

Amid  the  murders  of  St.  Domingo,  the  only 
merciful  were  those  slaves,  upon  whose  bondage 
mercy  had  been  bestowed. 

If  thus,  the  most  degraded  of  God's  creatures 
seem  alive  to  kindness,  and  are  susceptible  of  grati- 
tude, surely  the  more  civilized,  and  better  instruct- 
ed, will  not  when  weighed  in  the  balance  of  moral 
feeling,  always  be  found  wanting. 


201 


THE  AFRICAN  CHIEF.  (1) 


See  how  the  black  ship  cleaves  the  main, 
High  bounding  o'er  the  dark  blue  wave, 

Re  murmuring  with  the  groans  of  pain, 
Deep  freighted  with  the  princely  slave  * 

Did  all  the  Gods  of  Afric  sleep, 
Forgetful  of  their  guardian  love, 

When  the  white  tyrants  of  the  deep, 
Betrayed  him  in  the  palmy  grove. 

A  Chief  of  Gambia's  golden  shore, 
Whose  arm  the  band  of  warriors  led, 

Or  more — the  lord  of  generous  power, 
By  whom  the  foodless  poor  were  fed. 

Does  not  the  voice  of  reason  cry, 
Claim  the  first  right  that  nature  gave. 

From  the  red  scourge  of  bondage  fly, 
Nor  deign  to  live  a  burdened  slave. 

Has  not  his  suffering  offspring  clung, 
Desponding  round  his  fettered  knee  ; 

On  his  worn  shoulder,  weeping  hung, 
And  urged  one  effort  to  be  free  ! 

His  wife  by  nameless  wrongs  subdued, 
His  bosom's  friend  to  death  resigned ; 

The  flinty  path-way  drenched  in  blood  ; 
He  saw  with  cold  and  phrenzied  mind. 

Strong  in  despair,  then  sought  the  plain, 
To  heaven  was  raised  his  stedfast  eye, 

Resolved  to  burst  the  crushing  chain, 
Or  mid  the  battle's  blast  to  die. 
26 


202 

First  of  his  race,  he  led  the  band, 
Guardless  of  danger,  hurling  round, 

Till  by  his  red  avenging  hand, 

Full  many  a  despot  stained  the  ground. 

When  erst  Messenicfs  (2)  sons  oppressed, 
Flew  desperate  to  the  sanguine  field, 

With  iron  cloathed  each  injured  breast, 
And'saw  the  cruel  Spartan  yield. 

Did  not  the  stful  to  heaven  allied, 

With  the  proud  heart  as  greatly  swell. 

As  when  the  Roman  Decius  died, 
Or  when  the  Grecian  victim  fell.* 

Do  later  deeds  quick  rapture  raise, 
The  boon  Batavicfs  William  won, 
PaoWs  time-enduring  praise, 
Or  the  yet  greater  Washington  ! 

If  these  exalt  thy  sacred  zeal, 

To  hate  oppression's  mad  controul, 

For  bleeding  rffric  learn  to  feel, 

Whose  Chieftain  claimed  a  kindred  soul. 

Ah,  mourn  the  last  disastrous  hour, 
Lift  the  full  eye  of  bootless  grief, 

While  victory  treads  the  sultry  shore, 
And  tears  from  hope  the  captive  Chief. 

While  the  hard  race  of  pallid  hue, 
Unpracticed  in  the  power  to  feel, 

Resign  him  to  the  murderous  crew, 
The  horrors  of  the  quivering  wheel. 


*  Leorridas. 


203 

Let  sorrow  bathe  each  blushing  cheek, 
Bend  piteous  o'er  the  tortured  slave, 

Whose  wrongs  compassion  cannot  speak, 
Whose  only  refuge  was  the  grave. 


IN  WHAT   DOES   COLLOQUIAL   ELO- 
QUENCE CONSIST  ? 


ESS.4Y  XXII I. 


THE  charm  of  excelling  in  conversation  is  indeed 
a  magic  charm — a  seeming  talisman,  whose  spell 
brings  forgetfulness  of  every  power  except  its 
own  ;  a  capacity,  which  appearing  a  distinct  talent, 
is,  in  its  elements,  as  much  the  exclusive  gift  of  na- 
ture, as  any  endowment  of  the  body  or  the  mind ; 
since  there  are  of  the  great  world,  individuals  elo- 
quent, enlightened,  and  instructive  while  conver- 
sing; but  if  brought  to  the  test,  incapable  of  com- 
posing and  combining  a  single  page  with  perspi- 
cuity and  elegance. 

It  is  equally  true  of  some  among  the  profound 
in  science,  and  the  powerful  in  poetry ;  that  these 
are  seen  and  estimated  in  society,  as  the  least  ani- 
mated, the  least  communicative,  and  when  deigning 
to  converse,  apparently  the  least  amiably  interesting 
of  the  company.  The  great  and  glorious  Marlbo- 
rough  must  be  classed  among  the  first — the  philoso- 
phic Hume,  the  classic  Addison,  the  poetic  Gold- 
smith, and  the  dramatic  Cumberland,  were  deci- 
dedly of  the  latter. 


204 

ft  has  thence  become  a  question,  What  is  Collo- 
quial Eloquence  ?  Is  it  really  the  adventitious  boon 
of  nature  ?  or  truly  the  assiduous  acquirement  of 
art?  Are  its  essential  attributes,  a  fine  eye,  a  fine 
voice,  and  a  fine  person ;  since  of  these,  Eloquence 
is  surely  born,  or  does  it  principally  emanate  from 
the  philanthropy  of  soul,  which  bestowed  on  a  fa- 
voured few,  in  society  opens  the  countenance,  ex- 
pands the  heart,  and  calls  forth  ideas  which,  like  the 
electric  sparks,  without  the  collision  or  attraction 
of  personal  intercourse,  would  remain  dormant,  as 
if  incapable  of  disclosing  their  brilliant  qualities. 

These  admitted,  it  follows,  that  a  pleasing  exte- 
rior, with  a  limited  degree  of  genius,  and  an  en- 
larged portion  of  benevolence,  are  the  only  requi- 
sites in  forming  an  instructive,  an  amiable,  and  a 
delightful  companion.  Such  might  be  conceded, 
were  superiority  of  mind  naturally  or  necessarily 
opposed  to  beauty  of  feature,  or  to  benignity  of 
heart ;  for  the  pride,  the  honour,  and  the  bless- 
ing of  humanity,  the  usual  result  is  decidedly  averse 
to  such  theories :  exceptions  surely  exist ;  those 
confirming  the  rule,  since  exceptions  are  but  devia- 
tions. 

Consequently,  and  most  frequently,  the  wise,  the 
good,  and  the  agreeable,  have  a  natural  affinity,  by 
which  it  may  be  said,  they  are  seemingly,  if  not 
inevitably  associated  : — such,  if  we  may  trust  the 
biographer  was  Edmund  Burke,  and  nearly  such  his 
friend  and  pupil  Charles  Fox. 

Among  the  many  of  our  own  nation,  were   th? 


205 

pathetic  Ames,  the  excelling  Bayard,  and  the  pro- 
found Parsons  ;  and  were  he  not  yet  shedding  an 
influence  over  that  earth  which  he  continues  to 
enlighten,  might  be  added  the  name  of  one,  the 
ornament  of  both  hemispheres,  by  the  elder,  as  by 
the  younger  Albion,  listened  to  and  beloved. 

In  the  character  of  these,  and  such  as  these,  in 
accomplishment  of  mind  and  felicity  of  manner, 
there  might  individually  be  traced,  the  dignified 
ability  of  a  legislator,  the  abounding  imagination 
of  a  poet,  and  the  inspired  genius  of  an  orator.  In 
perfect  unison  with  a  heart,  ennobled  by  every 
virtue ;  and  a  capacity  of  voice,  and  expression  of 
countenance,  whose  accent  and  look,  shed  a  con- 
tinually irresistable  charm. 

In  conversing  with  either  of  those  illustrious 
men,  how  much  more  instruction,  and  pleasure 
were  to  be  derived,  than  from  the  best  writ^ 
ten  book  ?  since  an  original,  a  witty,  or  a  profound 
sentence,  graced  by  eloquence,  and  uttered  with 
amenity,  leaves  an  impression  as  lasting  as  it  is  for- 
cible, as  an  immediate  appeal  at  the  same  happy 
moment,  to  the  external  senses,  and  to  the  under- 
standing, waking  attention,  and  reaching  the  ener- 
gy of  thought,  through  the  fine  and  faithful  me- 
dium of  eye,  of  ear,  and  of  intellectual  feeling. 

As  far  as  the  voice,  the  features,  and  the  form, 
are  implied  in  the  charm  of  attractive  expression, 
in  their  perfection,  as  the  original  boon  of  nature, 
these,  may  be  out  of  our  volition :  and  yet,  as 
there  are  but  few  in  every  way  destitute  of  at- 


206 

traction  and  expression,  it  follows  that  by  mere 
self-discipline,  any,  and  every  one,  may,  in  some 
manner,  or  by  some  means,  appear,  or  really  be- 
come worthy,  and  engaging. 

In  direct  confirmation,  we  have,  probably  each 
of  us  seen  individuals,  who,  while  unknown,  or  ab- 
stracted in  a  corner  or  recess,  were  seemingly  pos- 
sessed of  no  expression  of  feature,  nor  any  attrac- 
tion of  mind ;  but  when  brought  forth  in  conver- 
sation, with  the  power  of  eye,  of  smile,  and  of  ac- 
cent, touched  and  animated  by  the  intercourse  of 
soul,  these  became  interesting  in  all  the  loveliness 
of  intelligent  beauty. 

Indeed,  every  one  who  sees,  and  feels,  and 
thinks,  must  have  been  made  sensible  to  the  mys- 
terious influence  of  mind  over  person;  and  the 
magic  of  its  effect  upon  the  features  and  deport- 
ment. 

Even  sculpture  and  painting,  symmetry,  and  co- 
lour, however  excelling  as  such,  are  inadequate  to 
the  perfection  of  finished  beauty,  unless  the  soul 
appear,  and  speak  in  language  of  strength,  delicacy, 
virtue  or  sorrow. 

Thus,  in  conversation,  are  the  finest  talents  une- 
qual or  incompetent,  without  the  additional  worth 
of  a  sensible  heart,  alive,  and  prompt  in  conciliat- 
ing the  feelings  of  inferiority,  in  softening  the  as- 
perities of  misfortune,  and  even  in  alleviating  the 
miseries  of  misconduct. 

As  in  repressing  the  impulse  of  those  passions 
which  offend  others,  we  are  comparatively  happy 


207 


in  ourselves,  so  in  really  sympathizing  with  the  af- 
flicted, holding  every  being,  however  situated,  as 
worthy  of  some  consideration,  we  are  respected,  and 
may  be  beloved,  as  by  a  mild  and  modest  willing- 
ness to  accept  instruction,  we,  in  our  proper  turn, 
command  attention.  It  may  in  mere  allusion  to 
the  selfish  calculations  be  observed,  that  it  were 
most  truly  selfish  to  be  kindly  regardful,  in  all  ho- 
nour preferring  one  another. 

It  is  also  believed  that  any  individual,  uniting  in 
himself  the  excellence  of  fine  sense,  with  the  bles- 
sed charm  of  kind  temper,  would,  in  delightful 
conversation,  appear  to  the  listener  and  beholder, 
beautiful  of  person,  although  previously  seen  with 
indifference,  and  in  some  sort,  with  disgust. 

This  enchantment  of  mind,  if  united  with  fas- 
cination of  manner,  being  sufficient  to  transform 
the  plain  to  the  pretty,  and  the  polished  ;  the  hard 
featured,  to  the  handsome  and  the  engaging. 

In  fine,  as  solitude,  or  more  properly  seclusion 
from  our  equals,  must  be  considered  an  evil,  infe- 
rior only  to  that  of  unrestrained  dissipation,  this 
evil  may  occasion  the  studious  to  be  classed 
among  the  repulsive,  though  not  less  agreeably 
gifted  by  nature  than  those  whom  we  designate 
men  of  the  world,  even  as  coarse  features,  and 
heedless  habits  are  said  to  be  characteristic  of  lite- 
rary ladies ;  but  with  permission,  it  is  again  urged, 
that  such  make  not  the  rule,  but  the  exception, 
that  is,  the  deviation. 


208 

Generally  speaking,  retirement  and  cultivation 
have  a  very  opposite  result,  and  when  the  man  of 
mind  is  ungraceful,  and  seems  unamiable,  let  such 
seemings  be  attributed— not  to  the  high  perfection 
of  his  nature — but  rather  to  the  necessity  of  his 
situation,  or  to  the  accident  of  his  habits ;  unbro- 
ken solitude  having  possibly  shut  up  the  avenues 
of  his  heart,  the  kindly  consolations  of  social  life 
could  find  BO  entrance  there.  And  possessed  of 
resources  within  himself,  the  man  of  letters,  in  re- 
sorting to  those,  feels  less  dependent,  and  conse- 
quently is  less  interested  in  pleasing. 

Yet  when  such  men,  polishing  the  pure  gold  of 
superior  understanding,  and  giving  all  its  lustre  to 
the  rare  gem  of  genius,  are  seen,  amid  the  elegant 
refinement  of  society,  willing  to  arise,  and  desiring 
to  unbend  from  the  deep  and  severe  research  of 
theoretic  and  practical  literature  ;  when  the  high 
elevation  of  mind,  is  united  with  the  graceful,  and 
the  kind-hearted,  then  the  most  interesting,  the 
most  mighty,  and  apparently  the  most  inspired,  is 
the  man  of  letters;  even  the  nearest  resemblance 
of  HIM,  in  whose  image  he  was  created,  and  by 
whose  power  he  lives,  and  moves,  and  holds  his 
intellectual  existence. 

These,  and  such  as  these,  in  our  own  native  Mas- 
sachusetts, there  surely  have  been — there  are — 
and  there  must  continue  to  be ;  the  rare  and  sin- 
gle perfection  of  their  individuality,  adding  to  its 
value,  and  enhancing  its  homage. 


209 

And  jet  it  may  remain  a  question,  whether  some 
portion  of  suffering,  by  the  scourge  of  severe  ad- 
versity, were  not  best  calculated  to  mend  the  dis- 
position, and  to  regulate  the  deportment ;  for  sel- 
dom does  the  heart  learn  to  sympathise  with  the 
afflictions  of  another,  until  it  has  been  forced  to 
bleed  for  its  own. 

Yet  misfortune  must  not  carry  its  complaining 
to  the  social  scene,  for  discontent  is  not  productive 
of  kind  sentiments ;  as  discontent  is  vexation,  which 
is  reproach,  commiserated  by  none,  because  insult- 
ing to  all ;  but  the  plaintive  tenderness  of  uncom- 
municating  sorrow,  as  it  makes  the  individual  hum- 
ble, and  in  one  sense  dependent,  fails  not  to  render 
him  more  willing  to  hearken,  than  to  obtrude. 
With  a  painful  consciousness,  or  a  fearful  appre- 
hension of  neglect,  he  is  alive  to  every  attention, 
and  disposed  rather  to  submit  than  to  encroach ; 
for  gratitude,  diffidence,  kindness  and  forbearance, 
are  the  legitimate  offspring  of  dignified  adversity. 

While  to  unaltered  prosperity,  sometimes,  per- 
haps too  often,  there  belongs  that  hilarity  of  mind, 
whose  assuming  pride,  supercilious  indifference,  and 
indefinite  boasting,  are  calculated  to  throw  a  deep 
shade  over  society,  as  injurious  to  the  brilliancy  of 
thought,  as  destructive  to  the  tenderness  of  feel- 
ing; by  which  the  free  rights  of  conversation  are 
subverted,  and  discourse  becomes  intolerable  to  all, 
with  the  single  exception  of  him,  the  subject  and 
the  object  of  his  own  elocution ;  of  him,  who  al- 
27 


210 

ways  speaking,  neither  sees,  nor  hears,  nor  resists, 
nor  regards. 

This  violence  of  animal  spirits,  being  usually  as 
degrading  to  the  possessor,  as  offending  to  the 
associate,  provided  the  individual  has  positively 
passed  the  simple  attractions  of  childhood ;  for 
such  violence  in  maturity,  is  seemingly  the  usual 
indication  of  personal  vanity,  its  egotism,  and  its  in- 
considerate rudeness ;  which,  with  pride  and  plea- 
sure in  its  own  person,  is  often  found  to  have  apa- 
thy, or  total  disregard  of  the  less  fortunate,  or  less 
favoured  companion. 


CHARACTERISTIC  PORTRAIT. 


DELINEATED    FROM   THE   LIFE   BY   AN    INVISIBLE   SPIRIT,    FOR   A    MAN 
OF    WORTH   AND   GENIUS,    INSCRIBED    TO    THE   SAME.  (1) 


IN  VAIN  thy  worth  would  every  praise  disclaim, 
And  live  unhallowed  by  the  voice  of  fame, 
With  graces  that  might  folly's  self  disarm, 
With  sense  to  give  deformity  a  charm, 
With  science,  in  such  simple  garb  arrayed, 
It  seems  of  reason  but  the  softening  shade. 

Of  noble  nature,  generous,  just  and  bold, 

Unbribed  by  pleasure,  unallured  by  gold. 

Firm — but  yet  feeling.     With  a  voice  whose  strain 

Flows  as  it  falls,  and  cannot  flow  in  vain ; 

Since  the  fine  cadence  of  expression  seems, 

Warmed  by  the  speaking  eye's  electric  beams. 


211 


That  eye,  whose  varying  powers  such  truth  convey, 

So  dark,  yet  brilliant,  so  serene,  yet  gay. 

Its  glance  so  gentle,  with  such  strength  combined, 

It  seems  the  moving  index  of  the  mind, 

Where  all  the  meeting  rays  of  genius  shine, 

And  touch  the  lips  to  eloquence  divine. 

With  every  grace  and  every  worth  thy  own, 
To  thee — unconscious  of  those  gifts — alone, 
The  tribute  of  this  humble  lay  will  seem, 
As  the  charm'd  fiction  of  a  poet's  dream. 
Or  careless  read,  and  thrown  with  ease  aside, 
Ne'er  to  thy  generous  self  in  thought  applied. 

Nor  would  the  artist,  rising  round  thy  name, 
Snatch  the  vain  homage  of  a  transient  fame. 
Ne'er  wilt  thou  know  what  timid  hand  essays, 
To  sketch  thy  features,  and  reflect  their  praise. 
ENOUGH  FOR  ME,  that  every  glowing  line, 
Trace  the  bright  semblance  of  a  form  like  thine  / 
True  to  the  life  thy  modest  merit  give, 
Then  rest  unhonoured,  and  unnoticed  live. 

Thee,  fame  will  follow,  nor  with  scorn  repay, 
The  growing  honours  of  thy  future  day. 
Nor  yet  to  shades  with  stealing  step  retire, 
To  veil  those  powers  which  bid  A  WORLD  admire, 


212 
BEAUTY   AND  BRAVERY. 

ESSdY  XXIV. 

ALL,  even  the  most  brutal,  seem  to  acquire  sen- 
timent, as  if  yielding  themselves  up  to  a  sort  of 
refined  delicacy,  taste,  and  veneration  of  heart, 
beneath  the  enchantment  of  perfect  female  bea- 
ty — innocent  and  modest ;  while  to  the  genius  of  a 
youthful  hero,  at  the  moment  of  successful  exploit, 
gentle,  affable,  and  unassuming,  exultation  of  mind, 
expansion  of  ideas,  and  sublimity  of  imagination, 
are  given  as  by  inspiration. 

This  two-fold  homage  is  felt,  and  bestowed,  as 
if  to  beings  of  a  nobler  planet,  whom  the  Almighty 
had  selected,  and  on  whom  He  has  particularly  im- 
pressed his  celestial  image,  with  the  qualities  of 
his  own  perfection.  A  preference,  and  preemi- 
nence which  seems,  even  of  necessity,  to  imply  du- 
ration ;  for  beauty,  intelligence,  and  goodness,  are 
to  our  belief,  the  attributes,  and  the  evidence  of  im- 
mortality. And  in  gazing  on  loveliness  and  glory, 
we  fondly  forget  that  these  must  fade  and  perish. 

Thus,  to  our  erring  judgment,  the  changeful  and 
the  transient,  become  the  immutable  and  the  endur- 
ing ;  that  erring  judgment  elevating  the  mere 
mortal  to  the  present  paradise  of  earthly  immor- 
tality. 

Yet  in  this  seeming  presumption  there  is  utility  ; 
since  from  the  most  perfect  works  of  creation,  our 


213 

thoughts  may  reascend  to  the  yet  more  perfect 
Creator,  until  human  homage  is  purified  to  celestial 
adoration,  and  worldly  awe  exchanged  for  the  con- 
secrated feelings  of  a  devotional  heart. 

Indeed  it  seems  morally  impossible  to  love  or  to 
admire  any  valuable  superiority  of  this  earth,  with- 
out congenial  sentiments  of  piety  ;  hence,  the  most 
amiable  and  affectionate  are,  in  their  meekness, 
usually  the  most  devout ;  the  word  goodness  bear- 
ing an  equal  affinity  to  moral  and  religious  ex- 
cellence, to  disposition,  and  to  principle,  to  expres- 
sion, and  to  manner, 


STANZAS 

TO  GILBERT   STUART, 

OK    HIS    INTENDED    PORTRAIT    OF    MRS.    H.    THE    BEAUTIFUL    WIFE  Of 
ONE    OF    THE    NAVAL    HEROES    OF    THE    U.    S. 


STUART  !  I  charge  thy  genius,  try 
To  catch  the  enchantment  of  that  eye. 
Let  HER,  the  fairest  of  the  fair, 
The  myrtle  wreath  of  beauty  wear, 
While  round  HER  HAPPY  HERO'S  brow, 
The  laurels  of  a  nation  flow. 

Be  thy  creative  thought  obey'd, 
And  call  to  life  the  featured  shade. 
Scarce  touch  the  cheek  with  dawning  red, 
Soft  as  the  leaf  from  roses  shed  ; 


214 

But  for  the  deeper  lip  prepare, 
The  rubied  bud  which  ripens  there. 

That  neck  with  clustering  curls  entwine, 
Make  all  its  pearly  treasures  thine. 
Since  never  to  thy  critic  eyes, 
May  there  an  earthly  equal  rise. 
I  charge  thy  genius,  let  it  be, 
Reflecting  HER,  and  speaking  THEE. 


PROPHECY, 

INSCRIBED   TO   COMMODORE   JOHN   RODGERS,    OF  THE   AMERICAN 
NAVY.    (1) 


INTREPID  VETERAN  of  the  wave, 

RODGERS  !  whose  fame  could  terror  bring 
To  them,  the  boldest  of  the  brave, 

The  chosen  of  their  PATRIARCH  king. 

Veteran !  ere  time's  imperious  sway, 
Has  brought  the  high  meridian  hour, 

Or  changed  one  jetty  lock  to  grey, 
Or  touched  thee  with  his  withering  power. 

Attend,  for  thou  art  glory's  son, 

Born  mid  the  battle's  blaze  to  shine, 

And  known,  when  danger's  deed  is  done, 
To  make  the  mildest  mercies  thine. 

| 

Hear  what  the  poet-prophet  knows, 
Triumph  is  thine,  and  added  fame, 

Even  ere  the  annual  summer  glows, 
The  deadly  contest  meets  thy  claim. 


215 

The  green  Atlantic  felt  thy  sway, 
As  erst  from  dawn  to  fading  light, 

Thy  hero  helm's  impetuous  way, 
Pursued  the  foe's  elusive  flight. 

That  green  Atlantic  is  thy  field, 

There,  though  redoubling  hosts  assail  ; 

The  OCEAN'S  LORD  to  thee  shall  yield, 
And  thee  humane  in  victory,  hail. 


NAVAL  SONG, 

FOR   THE  PUBLIC   DINNER,    GIVEN   IN   HONOUR    OF    THE    VICTORY   OF 
COMMODORE   PERRY,    ON   LAKE   ERIE 


HAIL  TO  THE  YOUTH  !  whose  arm  achieved, 
All  that  the  patriot  muse  believed; 
When  led  by  valour's  noblest  aim 
To  reap  the  harvest  field  of  fame. 
Or  like  the  nation's  eaglet  rise, 
To  suns  that  gleam  in  arctic  skies. 
Powerful  of  pinion,  soaring  wide, 
Beyond  the  broad  Atlantic  tide, 
To  where  bleak  Erie's  winter  star, 
Brings  tempest  to  the  front  of  war. 
There  glory  met  thee — victory  there 
Entwined  the  wreath  thy  temples  wear. 
And  there  the  Briton,  nobly  brave, 
His  tributary  honours  gave. 
Honours,  of  worth  the  gift  and  claim, 
Great  as  the  GRACEFUL  CONQUEROR'S  NAME, 
Bless'd  as  his  mild  preserving  power, 
And  generous  as  his  GLORY'S  HOUR. 


216 
DIRGE. 

FOR   THE   PUBLIC   FUNERAL   OF   CAPTAIN   LAWRENCI. 


VICTIM  of  a  Nation's  wrong  ! 

Gallant  sailor  '.—sufferer  dear  ! 
To  thy  pallid  brow  belong 

Wreaths,  impearled  by  victory's  tear. 


When  the  battle's  blast  begun, 
Were  thy  living  features  seen, 

Glorious  as  the  risen  sun, 
As  his  parting  ray  serene. 

All  of  heart  and  temper  kind ; 

All  of  soul  that  seems  divine, 
Worthy  of  a  hero's  mind, 

In  a  hero's  form  were  thine. 

Must  we  on  thy  hearse  bestow, 
Tears  that  speak  a  nation's  grief, 

While  that  nation's  peans  flow, 
Grateful  to  her  VICTOR  CHIEF. 

As  in  Freedom's  cause  to  die, 
Was  thy  life's  adoring  prayer, 

In  her  trophied  earth  to  lie, 

By  the  slain  who  slumber  there. 

Never  o'er  her  warrior's  grave, 
May  a  nation's  memory  sleep, 

Glory  that  outlives  the  brave, 
Tears  of  angels  there  shall  weep. 


217 


ODE, 

INSCRIBED  TO  MAJOR  GENERAL  BROWN,  CONQUEROR  OP  THE 
NORTH. 


GRACED  by  that  brow's  transcendant  height; 

Will  the  full  wreath  of  glory  flow ; 
Like  Erie's  vernal  waters  bright, 

And  stainless  as  his  winter's  snow. 
Glory,  that  with  triumphant  tread, 
Thee,  and  thy  youthful  warriors  led. 

What  to  a  nation's  heart  so  dear, 
As  he,  who  for  her  fame  would  die, 

What  calls  a  nation's  generous  tear, 
Like  HIM,  vho  bleeds  in  victory !  (1) 

Each  sacred  wound,  to  her  a  gem, 

More  prized  than  England's  diadem. 

Nor  ever,  on  that  brow  sublime, 

Can  the  fine  wreath,  or  fall,  or  fade ; 

But  brightening  with  the  breath  of  time, 
Be  green  as  Erie's  fragrant  shade, 

When,  breaking  on  the  BORDER  WAR, 

Was  seen  to  soar  thy  leading  star. 

Thine  was  to  prove  the  Briton  brave, 
As  the  fell  Indian's  might  to  try, 

NIAGARA'S  giant  dome  to  save, 

Or  mid  his  thunder's  dirge  to  die  : 

And  where  the  Minstrel-Harp  is  known, 

THEE  shall  the  muses  make  their  own, 


28 


218 


SONG, 

FOR  THE  PUBLIC  CELEBRATION  OF  THE  NATIONAL  PEACE. 

Tune — Rule  Britannia. 


Not  for  the  blood-polluted  car 

Wake  the  triumphant  song  of  fame, 

But  for  the  CHIEF  who  spares  the  war, 
Touched  by  a  suffering-  people's  claim. 

HAIL  COLUMBIA  !  Columbia  blest  and  free, 

The  STAR  OF  EMPIRE  leads  to  thee. 

Let  the  rich  laurel's  baneful  green 
Bright  on  the  warrior's  front  appear, 

But  olive  in  HIS  path  be  seen, 

Whose  genius  gives  the  prosperous  year, 

HAIL  COLUMBIA  !  Columbia  blest  and  free, 

The  STAR  OF  EMPIRE  breaks  on  thee. 

Diffused  around  the  sacred  skies, 
The  electric  ray  of  hope  extends, 

On  every  wing  of  commerce  flies, 
And  to  the  earth's  green  lap  descends. 

HAIL  COLUMBIA  !  Columbia  blest  and  free> 

The  STAR  OF  EMPIRE  beams  on  thee. 

Empire,  that  travels  wide  and  far, 
Sheds  her  last  glories  on  THE  WEST — 

Born  mid  the  morning  realms  of  war, 
She  loves  the  peaceful  evening  best. 

HAIL  COLUMBIA  1  Columbia  blest  and  iree, 

The  STAR  OF  EMPIRE  rests  on  thee  ! 

Then  let  the  pledge  of  Freedom  pass, 
While  every  Patriot  bosom  glows^ 


219 

And  o'er  the  elevated  glass 

The  amber  of  the  vintage  flows. 
HAIL  COLUMBIA  !  Columbia  blest  and  free, 
The  STAR  OF  EMPIRE  falls  with  thee!  (1) 


THE  STAR  GAZER, 


AH  !  say  ye  bright  inhabitants  on  high  ! 
Ye  planetary  travellers  of  the  sky ! 
When  the  world-wearied  sufferers  sink  to  rest, 
Is  their's  the  mansion  of  your  sparkling  breast  ? 
Will  there  the  voice  of  pity  pour  its  balm, 
And  her  kind  eye  illume  its  heavenly  charm  ? 
Will  soul  meet  soul,  though  forced  on  earth  to  part, 
And  wake  with  whispered  wish  the  dreaming  heart  ? 
Shall  life's  poor  pilgrim  doom'd  with  grief  to  roam. 
Find  in  your  trembling  rays  a  tranquil  home. 
Till  the  last  trump  vibrates  its  kindling  call, 
And  the  IMMORTAL  MIND  encircles  all  ? 


THE  SEXES. 

ESSAY  XXV. 

To  the  mere  superficial  observer,  it  would  seem 
that  man  was  sent  into  this  breathing  world  for  the 
purpose  of  enjoyment — woman  for  that  of  trial 
and  of  suffering.  In  how  many  instances  are  the 
best  years  of  her  existence  marked  but  by  sor- 
rows, and  by  sacrifices,  of  which  the  young  and 


220 

lost  affections  are  probably  the  least  appreciated 
by  others,  the  most  cruel  to  herself. 

To  man  belong  professions,  dignities,  authorities, 
and  pleasures  ;  for  woman,  there  remain  only  du- 
ties, domestic  virtues,  and  perhaps,  as  the  result  of 
these,  the  happiness  of  tranquil  submission. 

How  then  is  it  possible  for  her  to  dispense  with 
the  promises,  the  prospects,  the  consolations  of 
Christianity  ?  From  what  other  source  ca  nshe  de- 
rive fortitude — in  what  other  trust  find  remunera- 
tion— by  what  other  hope  obtain  the  reward  of 
well-doing  ? 

Even  the  sanctity  of  morals  does  not  form  a  per- 
fect shield  of  defence  against  the  wrongs  and  af- 
flictions to  which  woman  is  liable,  neither  does  it 
bring  an  adequate  consolation,  unless  founded  on, 
and  directed  by  that  sentiment  of  the  soul,  which 
rejoicing  in  the  truth,  beareth  all  things,  believeth  all 
things,  and  hopeth  all  things. 

To  one  thus  instructed,  and  thus  disposed,  the 
injuries  and  accidents  of  suffering  humanity  seem 
the  dispensations  of  an  all-wise  and  an  all-merciful 
Providence,  to  which  she  bows  in  submission,  con- 
scious that  those  dispensations,  however  severe, 
may  be  productive  of  good — lifting  her  subdued 
spirit  beyond  the  faithless,  the  fleeting,  the  vexa- 
tious attractions  of  mere  mortal  life,  to  that  whose 
eternity  of  bloom  and  of  blessing  shall  neither  fade 
nor  falter. 

Thence  is  her's  the  mighty  effort  of  moral  im- 
provement, the  patient  meekness  of  a  quiet  tern- 


221 

per,  the  mental  energy  of  a  sublimed  hope,  the  ac- 
tive benevolence  of  a  satisfied  heart :  and  these 
will  remain  until  the  moment  of  perfection  shall  ar- 
rive to  realize  that  felicity,  which,  as  human  life 
has  not  given,  neither  will  its  last  mortal  agony  in- 
terrupt or  take  away* 


PRINCE   EUGENE,  OF  SAVOY. 

ESSAY  XXVI. 

"  For  we  are  devout,  'when  we  are  happy" 

SUCH,  amid  his  wars  and  his  victories,  was  the 
sentiment  of  the  great  and  glorious  Prince  Eugene 
— nor  can  it  be  questioned,  that  the  sincere  heart 
of  rational  piety  becomes  and  grows  more  ardent 
in  praise  than  in  prayer — even  more  devotedly  de- 
vout from  ejaculation  than  by  supplication.  All  men 
of  genius,  it  is  observed  by  a  great  physician,  have 
the  temperament  of  devotion. 

And  who  is  there  among  believers,  that  upon 
the  unexpected  possession  of  any  blessing,  does  not 
breathe  out  his  whole  soul  in  the  unpremeditated 
transport  of  grateful  delight  to  the  giver  of  every 
good  and  perfect  gift  ?  if  but  by  exclaiming 
«  thanks  to  God  !" 

As  beneath  the  despondency  of  disappointment, 
and  amid  the  destitution  of  distress,  we  bend  like 
criminals  under  the  inflictions  of  an  offended  judge. 


222 

so  in  the  benefactions  of  life,  we  are  children  shel- 
tered and  cheered,  upon  whose  destiny  the  rays 
of  prosperity  seem  to  descend  without  a  visible 
cloud;  heirs,  whose  inheritance  is  made  sure  and 
unquestioned,  as  if  the  heaven  of  their  hope  were 
permitted  to  commence  even  in  this  sublunary 
world. 


CHRISTIANITY. 

ESS  A  Y  xxrn. 

THE  sublime  simplicity  of  the  Christian  Reli- 
gion is  so  touching  to  the  heart,  and  comes  with 
such  powerful  appeal  to  the  imagination,  bringing 
internal  and  external  evidence  of  the  truth  of  its 
moral  precept,  with  the  inestimable  benefit  of  its 
promised  immortality,  that  to  the  enquiring  and 
believing  Christian,  it  seems  to  demand  far  greater 
effort  of  human  understanding  to  resist  and  repel 
the  belief  of  its  divine  origin- — more  credulity,  even 
under  incredulity,  to  resist  and  reject  its  mission 
and  its  mercies,  than  to  accept,  and  feel,  and  be- 
lieve, all  the  mysteries  and  miracles  of  Divine  Re- 
velation. 

Let  us,  in  a  temporal  view,  also  remember  that 
the  sacred  sentiment  of  Christianity  comes  rich  in 
consolations,  and  without  a  single  restriction  beyond 
that  which  the  moral  and  civil  law  of  the  enlight- 
ened world  has,  even  of  necessity,  enjoined  upon 
the  observance  of  every  responsible  being. 


223 
POLEMICK  CONTROVERSY, 

ESSAY  XXVIII. 

SUBMIT  not  the  sacred  sentiment  of  Christianity 
to  the  level,  and  the  levity  of  transient  and  tri- 
fling discourse,  to  the  apathy  of  the  luke-warm,  and 
the  taunts  of  the  unbeliever. 

To  proselyte  such  cannot  surely  move  expecta- 
tion, but  the  attempt  may,  in  fatal  possibility,  give 
a  different  bias  to  the  sanctity  of  your  own  princi- 
ples. 

Since  it  appears  self-evident  that,  ere  the  mind 
of  man  can  descend  from  the  enlightning  hopes  of 
revealed  Religion  and  immortal  life,  to  the  dark 
despair  of  infidelity  and  annihilation,  it  must  re- 
sort to  such  perversion  of  will,  and  exert  so  many 
laborious  endeavours  of  sophistry,  that  this  becomes 
no  less  tenacious  of  error  from  indolence  than  from 
pride — to  which  too  often  may  be  added  the  bent 
of  its  moral  appetites. 

As  it  is  surely  possible,  it  were  indeed  most  hap- 
py, for  the  sincere  Christian  to  accept  and  feel  and 
know  the  blessing  of  revealed  Religion,  its  moral 
precept,  its  supporting  hope,  and  its  immortal  life, 
as  incontrovertable  truths ;  like  those  of  the  suc- 
cession of  seasons,  the  light  of  the  sun,  or  our  own 
mortal  existence.  FACTS  felt  and  understood,  above 
every  earthly  appeal,  and  beyond  the  approach  of 
every  human  argument. 


224 
LESSONS  OF  LIFE. 

ESSAY  XXIX. 

How  many  human  beings  look  back  upon  the 
whole  disastrous  journey  of  their  past  lives,  as  they 
would  upon  the  ineubus  of  a  troubled  dream,  of 
which  self-love  says  they  were  individually  the  vic- 
tim, and  in  no  way  the  agent ;  these  seldom  re- 
flecting, that  the  unguarded  steps  of  their  own  er- 
ring fancies  along  the  crooked  and  thorny  path 
which  had  inadvertently  been  selected,  probably 
led  onward  to  the  fatal  abyss  of  their  destiny. 

For  if  not  unwary  in  our  trust,  could  we  com- 
plain of  treachery  ? 

If  not  falsely  and  vainly,  and  with  prouder  pre- 
sumption confiding  in  ourselves,  should  we  so  often 
be  misled  or  mistaken? 

With  more  reserve  in  the  occasional  communica- 
tions of  civil  society,  translation  of  meaning,  mis- 
interpretation of  language,  and  review  of  actions, 
given  up  to  false  report,  would  not  rush  forward 
against  us,  causing  the  memory  to  ache,  and  the 
honest  mind  to  tremble  under  the  weight  of  its  own 
indignation. 

Beneath  the  heavy  pressure  of  trying  adversity, 
are  we  blindly  brought  forth  to  the  more  try  ing  or- 
deal of  passing  opinion,  and  its  rash  judgment.  Yet 
in  suffering  wrong,  and  feeling  anguish,  though  the 
iron  enter  our  soul,  it  were  better,  and  far  more  heal- 


225 

ing  not  to  complain,  and  never  to  recriminate  ;  but 
as  we  must  endure,  let  it  be  with  the  submission 
of  patience,  the  silence  of  fortitude,  the  dignity 
of  seclusion,  and  the  virtue  of  forgiveness  ;  as  yield- 
ing the  only  true  Panacea  of  a  hurt  mind,  the  sole 
remedy  for  an  aching  heart. 

Such  are  the  Lessons  of  Life,  and  being  once 
learned,  are  never  to  be  lost  nor  laid  aside,  as  of  no 
utility  ;  since  the  present,  and  the  future,  while 
time  yet  remains,  are  our  own,  and  when  aided  by 
the  effort  of  inclination,  may  have  strength,  and 
capacity,  and  power  to  retrieve  the  merely  men- 
tal mistakes  of  passing  existence. 

Recollection  of  ourselves  will  induce  compas- 
sion for  others,  and  compassion  for  others  impel 
censure  of  ourselves;  and  the  more  severe  its  de- 
nunciation, the  more  certain  the  rewards  of  peace 
and  good  will  upon  earth. 


«  THIS  MORTAL  SHALL  PUT  ON 
IMMORTALITY." 

PAUL'S  EPISTI 
ESSAY  XXX. 

The  following  Essay,  which,  in  some  sort  assumes  the  garb  of 
a  Sermon,  was  composed  on  a  stormy  Sunday,  which  detain- 
ed the  author  from  church. 

THAT  the  great  truth  of  the  soul's  immortality, 
is  not  deducible,  as  a   mathematical  question,  nor 
29 


226 

like  any  other  problem  to  be  searched,  and  solved 
by  the  erring  faculties  of  man,  appears  most  con- 
sistent with  divine  wisdom,  commanding  the  mortal 
to  have  faith  in  things  unseen,  while  in  the  evi- 
dences of  Christianity,  it  sublimes  that  hope,  which 
lives  in  his  soul,  and  is  with  so  much  difficulty  era- 
dicated thence  ;  even  the  hope  of  eternal  life, 
shrinking  aghast  from  the  tenfold  despair  of  future 
annihilation. 

Annihilation,  which  comes  to  the  sensible  heart, 
and  its  moral  faculties,  in  a  shape  so  cruelly  ques- 
tionable, so  replete  with  added  horrors  to  all  whom 
affliction  claims,  and  prosperity  has  discarded,  is  as 
repulsive  to  the  pride  of  nature,  as  offensive  to 
virtue,  and  contradictory  to  reason — even  that  rea- 
son, whose  intellectual  light  was  given  to  direct 
our  steps  along  the  dark  and  intricate  passage  of 
this  world,  not  to  dazzle  and  confound  the  moral 
and  mental  vision,  leading  on  and  bewildering  to 
desolation. 

Annihilation  !  a  word,  a  sentence,  an  idea,  more 
discouraging  and  appalling — more  heartless  and 
hopeless,  than  all  the  pains,  and  penalties,  and  con- 
flicting miseries  of  this  mortal  life,  and  only  more  to- 
lerable to  the  pure  heart  of  humanity,  than  that  ev- 
erlasting punishment  by  some  supposed  to  have  been 
intimated  and  combined  with  the  promise  of  life 
eternal. 

The  heart  always  feels,  and  the  brain  always 
thinks.  In  slumber,  as  in  wakefulness,  they  are  still 
alive  to  vibration  and  sensation :  the  subtility  of 


227 

whose  animating  and  informing  principle  it  is  not 
given  to  the  gross  and  material  senses  of  man  td 
perceive  or  to  analyze,  any  more  than  it  is  to  de- 
fine and  determine  the  causes  and  effects  of  every 
other  mystery  of  the  visible  or  invisible  world,, 
Still  animating  and  informing,  however  concealed 
amid  the  wants  of  unfolding  infancy— ^-however  ob- 
scured beneath  the  closely  covering  veil  of  exhaust- 
ed age — under  all  the  penalties  of  passion,  of  pain, 
and  of  pleasure,  existing  and  invigorating,  but  made 
most  evident  by  that  ardent  longing  after  immor* 
tality  !  A  longing  and  a  sentiment  of  blessing,  born 
with  all  who  breathe  the  breath  of  man,  and  which 
perverted  imagination  can  alone  extirpate  from  the 
nerves  of  his  brain,  and  the  pulses  of  his  heart  i 
to  which  may  be  adduced  that  capacity  which  we 
feel  within  us  for  the  enjoyment  of  perfect  happi- 
ness never  to  be  realized  upon  earth. 

Enquire  of  the  sceptick,  if  it  be  not  arraigning 
the  benevolence,  and  the  wisdom  of  the  creating 
God,  in  having  thus  cast  out  the  sufferer  man,  nak- 
ed and  obnoxious  to  the  fierce  and  cruel  elements 
of  this  hard  earth,  accessible  to  every  sin,  and  sur- 
rounded by  every  misery,  until  he  perish,  like  the 
brute,  without  hope,  and  bereaved  of  consolation. 

What  upon  these  terms  were  the  object  and  pur- 
pose of  human  existence  ? 

Were  it  not  surely  better  for  the  faithful  and 
the  feeling,  that  they  had  never  been  born  ?  since 
the  destiny  of  the  wisest  and  the  best,  were  less 
tolerable,  than  that  of  the  weak  bird  of  the  ah> 


228 

the  mute  fish  of  the  ocean,  or  the  wild  beast  of  the 
desert ;  for  man,  in  the  infirmities  of  his  earthly 
nature,  approximates  in  helplessness  to  those,  with 
the  additional  miseries  of  retrospection  and  anticipa- 
tion, to  render  his  condition  even  more  deplorable 
than  that  of  the  brute  animal. 

That  mere  transient  temporal  being,  deprived  of 
prospective  happiness,  is  neither  a  boon  nor  a  bless- 
ing, may  be  exemplified  by  the  simple  fact,  that 
there  has  seldom  existed  a  human  being  who  would 
covet,  or  desire,  or  consent  to  retread  every  step  in 
his  past  life,  from  the  first  efforts  of  unconscious 
infancy  to  the  last  endeavour  of  sinning  and  suffer- 
ing maturity,  subjected  to  the  exigencies,  and  plung- 
ed in  the  vortex  of  that  distress,  and  those  dangers, 
which  having  outlived,  he  cannot  recall  to  his  sensi- 
tive mind  without  shuddering. 

Take  from  earth  its  vital  trust  in  the  soul's 
immortality,  and  say,  what  shall  restrain  the  craf- 
ty, or  turn  aside  the  hard-hearted  ?  The  civil 
law  cannot,  and  the  laws  of  honour  and  of  hu- 
manity do  not.  What  shall  alleviate  the  bitter 
pang  of  the  dying?  or  protect  and  preserve  the 
wandering  intellect  of  the  desolate  and  the  despe- 
rate ?  Not  worldly  friends,  they  have  long  since 
departed.  Not  riches — these  have  wasted  away, 
or  are  unavailable.  Not  perfection  of  body  and  of 
mind — those  are  in  decay,  and  hastening  to  corrup- 
tion. 

Look  back   upon  history,  and   bring  thence  the 
death  bed  of  the  believing  Addison,  to  the  side  of 


229 

that  which  contains  the  half  converted  apostate 
Rochester,  (1)  or  to  that  of  the  more  incorrigible 
Littleton.  Compare  the  characteristic  feelings  of 
the  departing  Christian,  with  those  of  the  atrocious 
sinner  and  the  perishing  infidel.  To  the  believer 
belong  serenity,  certainty  and  triumph ;  in  the 
faithless  are  seen  doubt,  despondency  and  anguish. 
Each  had  possessed,  and  did  enjoy  the  prosperity 
which  is  of  this  world — genius,  rank  and  riches. 
But  as  unlike  in  the  course  and  the  conduct  of 
those  adventitious  gifts,  as  was  their  living  hope, 
and  its  dying  termination. 

Of  whom,  and  from  what,  are  the  usual  declaim- 
ers  against  Christianity  ?  Look  on  the  morals,  and 
at  the  minds  of  these,  and  say,  are  they  mild,  en- 
lightened, kindly,  and  correct?  or  vulgar,  or  igno- 
rant, vile,  or  passionate  ?  Do  they  reason,  or  do 
they  rail  ?  Is  their  argument  convincing  or  con- 
founding— encouraging,  or  appalling?  Are  their 
precepts,  or  is  their  example  such  as  you  would  se- 
lect or  prefer  to  direct  your  heart,  to  model  your 
manners,  to  influence  your  principles  ?  No — rather 
by  their  visible  works  have  you  known  them.  The 
bad  tree  has  not  brought  forth  good  fruit,  neither 
can  the  dull  and  deaf  adder  be  touched  and  turn- 
ed by  the  words  of  the  charmer,  charm  he  never  so 
wisely. 

The  infidel,  whose  material  mind  comprehends 
neither  part,  nor  feature  of  creation ;  whose  boast- 
ed reason  is  incapable  of  foreseeing,  averting,  or 
even  explaining  the  course,  the  action,  the  pro- 


230 

cess,  or  the  period  of  a  single  secret  of  nature — > 
has  he  discovered,  and  will  he  disclose  what  gives 
equilibrium  to  the  earth,  or  determines  the  ebbing 
and  flowing  of  the  tides,  or  the  course  and  current 
of  the  winds  ?  What  has  combined  attraction  and 
compelled  repulsion?  why,  and  how  does  gravita- 
tion exist  and  resist ;  in  what  manner  influence  the 
heavenly  bodies  ?  Whence  the  separation  and  the 
union  of  a  part,  the  harmony  and  perfection  of  the 
whole  ? 

Of  all  that  surrounds  him,  however  inferior,  and 
however  minute,  he  is  essentially  ignorant,  and  yet 
he  presumes  that  by  searching  he  can  find  out  God  ; 
in  the  delusion  of  a  disordered  imagination,  not  only 
consents  to  lose  his  own  soul,  but  is  at  the  same 
time  under  the  perversion  of  bad  precept — willing 
to  deprive  those  who  have  no  portion  in  this  world, 
of  their  salvation,  and  the  hope  of  that  which  is  to 
come. 

How  infinitely  unlike  him,  the  heir  of  everlasting 
life  ;  whom  the  OMNIPOTENT  has  made  but  a  little 
lower  than  the  angels  in  power,  and  in  glory ;  whose 
feet  rest  on  earth,  while  his  eye,  and  his  heart  rise 
to  the  heaven  of  heavens. 

In  conclusion,  call  not  these  simply  uttered 
thoughts,  the  wild  sentiments  of  zeal,  for  they 
possess  the  calmness  of  moderation  ;  neither  ac^ 
cuse  the  author  of  prejudice  and  presumption — as 
they  plead  the  incapacity  of  ignorance  seeking  to 
enlighten  its  own  darkness,  beneath  that  lowly  and 
implicit  ray  of  faith,  whose  power  is  beyond  this 
world. 


231 

Should  the  scorner  affect  to  expose  such  senti- 
ments as  merely  declamatory,  and  as  containing  little 
of  reason,  and  less  of  evident  certainty ;  this  is  in- 
deed, and  without  dispute,  conceded  ;  at  the  same 
time  he  will  admit  that  such  also  is  human  life, 
whose  consciousness  we  feel,  and  morally  know  to 
exist,  while  profound  ignorance  envelopes  every 
clue,  which  might  unravel  the  intricacies  of  pre- 
sent, or  future  destiny. 

But  as  the  man  of  regularity  does  not,  while  in 
health,  neglect  to  prepare  for  the  morrow,  since 
most  probably  the  morrow  will  come ;  and  woe 
unto  him,  whose  whole  substance,  and  last  hope 
are  exhausted  on  the  hour  which  is  even  now  pas- 
sing away  ;  so  while  assuredly  we  may,  and  ought  to 
make  the  utmost  and  the  best  of  the  present  day 
of  this  world,  its  benevolent  pleasures,  its  innocent 
delights,  and  its  grateful  affections,  it  should  be 
without  discarding  the  prospect  and  the  promise  of 
that  morrow,  which  may  come  like  the  bridegroom 
in  holy  writ,  when  least  expected  ;  preparing  our- 
selves, not  by  personal  penance,  by  voluntary  pain, 
and  by  weak  apprehension,  but  rather  with  the 
truth  and  trust  of  an  obedient  but  enlightened  spirit ; 
waiting  for  the  moment  of  emancipation  as  the  be- 
ginning and  completion  of  perfect  happiness, 


232 
MORTAL   AND  IMMORTAL. 

ADDRESSED   TO    ONE    UNDER   THE   SOLICITUDE    OF    DOUBT. 


YES  !  MAN  is  MORTAL  !  round  that  open  brow, 
Which,  like  the  arch  of  promise,  heaven  reflected, 
Speaks  THE  ETERNAL  MIND  ;  even  there,  the  dull 
Cold  dews  of  death  will  hover,  and  those  eyes, 
Whose  lustre  seems  an  ever  living  ray 
Of  loveliness,  and  glory,  soft  pleading 
With  look  of  eloquence,  they  too  must  fade 
And  falter,  languid  in  extinguished  beauty. 
That  voice,  which  like  the  harp  of  angels,  thrills 
With  no  earthly  strain,  shall  cease  to  vibrate, 
Or  age — oblivious  age — more  hard  than  death, 
Shedding  its  late  destruction,  will  chill 
The  heart's  fine  fervour,  even  round  the  rare 
And  radiant  gem  of  genius,  droop 
With  an  uncheerly  shade,  mouldering  to  dust 
And  dark  annihilation — age,  in  whose  hour 
Man,  the  blest  image  of  benignant  heaven, 
He,  whose  majestic  front  and  powerful  form, 
Looked  a  descended  God,  the  good,  the  wise, 
Shall  rest  unhallowed  ;  with  every  featured  charm 
That  waked  the  gaze,  or  warmed  the  pulse  of  passion, 
Lost,  and  delightless — save,  where  unquiet, 
Still  the  phantom  memory  comes  musing, 
Or  hovering  as  a  dream  o'er  past  existence. 

Thus  speaks 

The  fading  world — not  thus  the  plighted  friend, 
Who,  won  and  valued  at  life's  blushing  dawn, 
Still  while  its  setting  sun,  through  many  a  cloud, 
Gleams  o'er  the  furrowed  path,  will  love  its  slow 
And  mild  declining,  and  still  gaze  enamoured 


233 

On  the  parting  lustre,  ere  calm  it  sink 
Beneath  time's  boundless  ocean. 

Shall  ye 

Not  rest  together  ?  and  together  rise 
On  other  worlds  with  renovated  beams, 
Unsevered,  undiminished  ? 

Grows  the  heart  sad  in  cold  doubt  pondering 

O'er  life's  vain  promise — death's  dread  mystery  ? 

Yet  say !  THOU  SON  OF  IMMORTALITY  ! 

Lives  there  not  ONE,  whom  thy  charmed  thought  can 

claim, 

One  ever  faithful  friend  ?  whom  the  hard  earth, 
With  poor  adversity's  unpitied  wrongs, 
And  envy*s  blighting  breath,  and  falsehood^  wile, 
And  flattery's  vain  allurement,  ne'er  knew 
To  change,  nor  triumphed  to  divide — neither 
Shall  death  disjoin — but  rather  to  some  star's 
Enlightening  orb,  where  the  ALL  SEEING  EYE 
Beams  blessings  infinite — adoring  still, 
The  re-united  spirit  will  ascend, 
Waked  by  the  kindling  voice  of  seraphim. 

Of  God  and  loved  are  they,  the  true  in  heart, 
Those  solitary  wanderers  of  the  earth, 
On  whom  were  closed  her  haunts  of  happiness  ;• 
But  their's  the  heritage  and  home  of  heaven, 
With  full  oblivion  of  the  ills  they  bore, 
Patient  and  plaintless,  from  a  sinning  world, 
Which  on  the  guileless  sufferer  flings  its  glaneef 
And  calls  perdition,  justice. 


30 


234 
THE  SABBATH. 

AT  A  DISTANCE  FROM  MY  HOME,  AND  MY  CHURCH.  (1) 


1  STAY  not  for  the  house  of  prayer, 
For  GOD  is  glorious  every  where, 
In  the  lone  wild  his  power  is  known, 
As  in  high  Heaven's  surrounded  throne. 

And  yet  that  house  of  prayer  is  dear 
To  those  who  have  no  portion  here, 
t)ear  in  contrition's  (2)  thoughtful  sigh, 
And  dear  in  praise,  the  adoring  eye, 
Most  dear  the  absolving  word  (3)  divinet 
Which  falls  on  faults  and  griefs  like  mine  ! 
Ah !  may  those  pleading  griefs  atone, 
For  every  fault  that  life  has  known ! 

The  organ's  choral  peal  to  hear, 
Or  the  slow  fall,  soft-warbling  clear, 
Till  the  soul  feels  her  God  is  near; 
And,  with  the  Diapasons  note, 
The  songs  of  angels  seem  to  float, 
Or  the  rich  voice — ne'er  pour'd  in  vain. 
If  heaven  sublime  the  mortal  strain. 

These  would  I  claim  on  bended  knee, 
And  in  the  Christian's  worship  see 
The  Christian's  hope  extend  to  me. 
Nor  while  the  holy  Pastor's  prayer 
Proclaims  the  peace  of  God  (4)  is  there, 
May  the  disturbing  world  betray 
That  hope — nor  fright  that  peace  away. 

(2)  Confession,  (3)  Absolution,  (4)  and  Pastoral  blessing  of  the  protest- 
ant  Episcopal  Church. 


235 


LINES 

TO   A    BELOVED    AND    REVERED    MINISTER   OF    THE    CHRISTIAN 
CHURCH. 


WHAT  e'er  of  hope's  religious  calm  I  know, 
To  thee,  Director  of  my  thoughts,  I  owe, 
Thee — sacred  shepherd  of  a  pastoral  care, 
Won  to  thy  praise,  as  wakened  by  thy  prayer. 

When  doomed  to  feel  of  grief  the  feared  excess, 
And  lost  the  dream  of  earthly  happiness, 
I  saw  thee  from  thine  height  of  mind  descend, 
And  in  the  sorrowing  suppliant,  know  the  friend. 

That  voice,  which,  like  a  missioned  angel's  strain, 
Ne'er  pours  the  fine,  and  favouring  thought  in  vain ; 
Thought,  born  of  wisdom — but  as  pity  kind, 
Profound,  yet  lucid — forceful,  yet  refined. 

That  thought — that  voice — when  sorrows  full  control 
Had,  like  a  wintery  tempest,  chilled  the  soul, 
Could,  like  the  vernal  morning's  gentle  ray, 
Bring  the  calm  promise  of  restoring  day. 

Calm — but  not  brilliant — joys  no  more  shall  rise, 
But  mournful  seasons  gleam  through  weeping  skies, 
While  thou — and  heaven — a  holier  light  bestow, 
To  guide  the  sufferer  through  her  path  of  woe, 


HYMNS. 


REANIMATION. 


WRITTEN  AT  THE  REQUEST  OF  THE  BOSTON  HUMANE  SOCIETY,  AND 
INTENDED  BY  THE  AUTHOR  TO  BE  SUNG  BY  THE  REANIMATED 
PERSONS  WALKING  IN  PROCESSION. 


WHO  from  the  closing  shades  of  night, 
When  the  last  tear  of  hope  is  shed, 

Can  bid  the  soul  return  to  light, 

And  break  the  slumber  of  the  dead ! 

No  human  skill  that  heart  can  warm, 
Which  the  cold  blast  of  nature  froze, 

Recall  to  life  the  perished  form, 
The  secret  of  the  grave  disclose. 

But  Thou — our  saving  GOD — we  know, 
Canst  bless  the  mortal  arm  with  power, 

To  bid  the  stagnant  pulses  flow, 
The  animating  heat  restore. 

Thy  will,  ere  nature's  tutored  hand 
Could  with  young  life  these  limbs  unfold, 

Did  the  imprison'd  brain  expand, 
And  all  its  countless  fibres  told : 


As  from  the  dust  thy  forming  breath 
Could  the  unconscious  being  raise, 


238 

So  shall  the  wasted  voice  of  death 
Wake  at  thy  call  in  songs  of  praise, 

Since  twice  to  die  is  ours'  alone, 
And  twice  the  birth  of  life  to  see ; 

Oh  let  us,  suppliant  at  thy  throne, 
Devote  our  second  life  to  THEE. 


DEDICATION  HYMN. 


WRITTEN   AT   THE   REQUEST   OF   THE    CHURCH    OF   WEST   BOSTON. 


In  vain  would  mortal  hands  prepare 

The  temple's  blest  abode  ; 
Unless,  supreme  in  mercy  there, 

Descend  the  accepting  God. 

In  vain  the  warbled  prayer  we  raise 
In  strains  that  seem  divine  ; 

Unless  the  heart's  responsive  praise, 
Inspiring  God  !  be  thine. 

Such  was  a  MAYHEW'S  (1)  soul  of  zeal, 

Adoring  thee  with  fear, 
He  taught  the  sinner's  heart  to  feel, 

The  avenging  power  was  near. 

With  milder  light  a  HOWARD  (2)  shone, 

To  him  persuasion  given, 
He  made  thy  pitying  promise  known, 

Parent  of  earth,  and  heaven  ! 

Such  may  your  youthful  Pastor  prove., 
The  words  of  life  to  feel, 


239 

Be  his  a  HOWARD'S  patient  lovfe, 
A  MAYHEW'S  heavenly  zeal ! 

O  THOU  !  to  whom  the  solar  blaze 

Is  but  a  shadowy  zone, 
To  thee  our  holiest  dome  we  raise, 

Glorious  for  God  alone  I 


HYMN. 

SORROW  AND  SUPPLICATION. 


Though  dark  and  deep  offences  flow, 

Be  the  repentant  grief  sincere  ; 
Pure  as  the  falling  fleece  of  snow, 

Shall  the  accepted  soul  appear. 
Thine  is  a  pitying  parent's  care, 
GOD  OF  FORGIVENESS  !  heed  our  prayer ! 

If,  pierced  by  many  an  earthly  woe, 
The  breaking  heart  its  peace  resign ; 

On  heaven  that  breaking  heart  bestow, 
And  be  its  healing  mercies  thine  ! 

To  thee  our  sorrowing  thoughts  we  raise, 

GOD  OF  COMPASSION  !  hear  our  praise  ! 

From  the  bright  heaven's  transcendent  throne 
Behold  the  Lord  of  life  descend, 

Making  the  sentenced  earth  his  own, 
The  blessing  of  his  love  extend ! 

SAVIOUR,  AND  GOD  !  from  thee  we  claim, 

The  Christian's  ever  soaring  flame  ! 

The  mind  that  rests  its  hope  on  high, 
Though  dark  as  night,  as  winter  cold, 


240 

Adoring  heaven's  protective  eye, 

Shall  to  its  glorious  light  unfold. 
The  breath  of  worlds,  the  soul  divine, 
CREATIVE  DEITY  !  are  thine. 


HYMN. 

PRAISE  AND  PRAYER  TO  GOD.(l) 


Oh  thou,  who  ere  the  lapse  of  time, 
Wert  glorious  with  unfading  prime  ; 
ENDURING  GOD  !  thy  pity  give, 
To  me  who  but  a  moment  live. 

Thy  strength  the  elements  controuls, 
And  rules  the  axis  of  the  poles ; 
To  me,  in  sinful  suffering  weak, 
The  words  of  pardoning  mercy  speak. 

THOU  LIGHT  OF  WORLDS  !  whose  quenchless  ray 
Beams  in  the  brilliant  blush  of  day ! 
On  me,  in  darkest  error  blind, 
Pervading,  pour  the  all-seeing  mind ! 

PARENT  OF  LIFE  !  to  whom  I  owe 
The  nerves  that  thrill,  the  veins  that  glow, 
Me,  sinking  to  the  oblivious  grave, 
May  thy  absolving  goodness  save. 

IMMORTAL  BEING  !  God  alone  ! 
All-giving  nature  is  thy  own ; 
To  TheeT  her  wandering  race  restore, 
Till  all  her  breathing  world  adore. 


241 

HYMN. 

GLORY  TO  GOD. 


To  THEE,  creative  GOD,  I  owe 
All  that  1  have,  or  hope,  or  know  ^ 
Each  ray  of  mind,  that  seems  to  shine, 
Is  but  a  passing  gleam  of  thine  ! 

The  lustred  heavens  present  thy  zone, 
The  peopled  earth,  thy  living  throne  ; 
This  globe,  which  nature  holds  of  tbee, 
Is  bound  by  thy  infinity  ! 

Poor,  and  unblessed,  not  mine  the  power, 
To  shield  from  want  one  frugal  hour, 
When  through  thy  pitying  care  I  drew 
The  bread  of  peace  and  promise  too. 

How  vain  the  pride  of  man  appears, 
How  weak  the  vigour  of  his  years, 
Yet  thou  the  VITAL  RAY  hast  given, 
That  lights  and  leads  his  hope  to  heaven. 


243 


TWO  HYMNS, 

For  the  Celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  at  the  first  Church 
in  Dorchester. 


MANIFESTATION    OP    CHRIST   TO    THE   GENTILES. 

Matthew,  2 

WRITTEN  AT   THE   PARTICULAR   REQUEST   OF   THE   CHURCH 
AND   ITS   BELOVEP   PASTOR. 


WHEN  on  the  midnight  of  the  east, 

At  the  dead  moment  of  repose, 
Like  hope  on  misery's  darkened  breast, 

The  planet  of  salvation  rose. 

The  Shepherd,  leaning  o'er  his  flock, 
Started  with  broad  and  upward  gaze ; 

Kneel'd— while  the  star  of  Bethlehem  broke 
On  music,  wakened  into  praise. 

If  heathen  monarchs  from  afar 

Followed,  when  darkness  round  them  spread^ 
The  kindling  glories  of  that  star, 

And  worshipped  where  its  radiance  led. 

Shall  we,  for  whom  that  star  has  risen, 
For  whom  that  Shepherd  music  flow'd, 

Regardless  hear  of  sins  forgiven, 

Nor  claim  the  promise  God  bestowed  I 


243 

Shall  we,  for  whom  the  Saviour  hledj 
Careless  his  banquet's  blessing  see ; 

Nor  heed  the  parting  word,  that  said, 
Remember  HIM,  who  died  for  thee  I 


HYMN  2d. 

FOR  THE   LORD?S   SUPPER  AT   THE  FIRST  CHURCH   IN   DORCHESTERr 


I. 

AND  hast  thou,  Lord  to  sinners  given, 
Pardon,  and  peace,  and  hope,  and  heaven  I 
To  man's  offending  race  restored 
The  blessing  of  the  absolving  word  ! 
While  to  thy  table  we  are  led, 
And  pour  that  wine,  and  break  that  bread, 
With  which  the  incarnate  God  was  fed ! 
With  which  the  incarnate  God  was  fed  ! 

H. 

Ne'er  may  the  earth's  vain  wishes  raise, 
Lips  hallowed  by  thy  prayer,  and  praise  j 
No  more  the  thoughts  of  sin  surprise 
Hearts  of  the  accepted  sacrifice — 
Hearts  claimed  by  thee,  whose  wakeful  woes 
Gave  the  contending  world  repose ; 
Dark  ere  the  sun  of  glory  rose. 
Dark  ere  the  sun  of  glory  rose  ! 

Hi. 

Dark  ere  the  rays  of  mercy  shone, 
Dark  ere  the  gospel's  light  was  known ; 
Dark,  ere  in  guilt  and  misery's  hour, 
The  Lord  of  life^-of  love — of  power. 


244 

The  heaven-descended  Saviour,  gave 
Eternal  victory  to  the  grave  ; 
And  died— a  sinning  world  to  save, 
And  died — a  sinning  world  to  save  ! 


STANZAS. 

INTENDED   FOR  A  YOUNG  ECCLESIASTIC,  RECENTLY    ORDAINED   ONE  OF 
THE   PASTORS    OF   THE   ROMAN   CATHOLIC   CHURCH.  (1) 


WHAT  is  the  world's  unhallowed  charm, 
To  one  whom  martyr' d  saints  regard  j 

Calm  is  the  pulse,  the  nerves  are  calm, 
When  mortals  rest  on  heaven's  reward. 

And  thou,  like  him  whose  TRUST  (2)  is  thine, 
Whose  genius  sheds  its  rays  on  thee, 

Must  every  flower  of  earth  resign, 
For  treasures  of  eternity. 

Canst  thou  the  fruits  of  pleasure  scorn ! 

Wilt  thou  of  wealth  the  hoards  despise, 
Gazing  on  gifts  that  life  adorn, 

With  quiet  undesiring  eyes  ? 

_  * 
Canst  thou,  while  others  warm,  grow  cold, 

Wilt  thou  while  beauty  kneels  be  blind ; 
Though  cast  in  Nature's  finest  mould — 

As  if  to  Nature's  self  unkind  ? 

Then,  PASTOR,  to  the  heavens  remove, 

Let  angels  thy  companions  be  ; 
Wants  of  the  world,  its  hate,  its  love, 

Are  feelings  unapproach'd  by  thee. 


245 

Thee— bound  to  duty's  rigid  breast, 
To  penance,  and  its  pains  resign'd, 

The  passions  of  the  soul  suppress'd — 
Recall'd  the  wandering  thoughts  of  mind. 

While  some  are  doubting,  some  admiring, 
Be  thine  the  saintly  teacher's  part, 

From  the  unholy  world  retiring, 
To  learn  the  sacrifice  of  heart. 

To  search  the  path  his  steps  have  trod, 
Thy  bishop  blest — whose  life  divine 
Moves  gently  onward  to  his  God, 

THE   LESSON   OF   THAT   LIFE   IS   THINE. 


an* 


MONODY, 


TO  THE  YOUNG  HEROES  WHO  FOUGHT  AND  FELL  UNDER  GENERAL 
ST.  CLAIR,  IN  A  DESPERATE  MIDNIGHT  ENCOUNTER,  AT  THE 
MIAMI  OF  THE  LAKES. 


DESCEND,  bland  pity !  from  thy  native  sky, 
Come,  with  thy  moving  plaint,  and  melting  eye  Y 
The  muses  court  thee  from  thy  blest  abode ; 
Enthroned  in  light — embosomed  in  thy  GOD  ! 
With  balmy  voice  the  wayward  tidings  tell, 
How  the  brave  bled,  and  how  lamented  fell ! 
How  in  the  earliest  pride  of  opening  bloom, 
On  houseless  wilds  demand  a  sheltering  tomb  ! 
Far  from  the  social  tie,  the  kindred  tear, 
Denied  the  relic'd  urn  and  trophied  bier. 

In  the  deep  horrors  of  the  midnight  shade, 
In  the  first  onset  daring  valour  made  ; 
Each  youthful  warrior  wastes  his  wearied  breath,. 
And  woos  stern  honour  in  the  grasp  of  death. 
Scarce  seen  to  charm,  just  rising  to  applause, 
The  blameless  victim  of  a  ruthless  cause ; 
Torn  like  a  plant  beneath  the  early  spring, 
When  shivering  Eurus  flaps  his  fateful  wing. 

Ah  say !  what  pure  libations  can  be  paid  ! 
What  fond  atonement  soothe  the  hovering  shade  ; 
In  vain  from  frozen  age  the  warm  tears  flow, 
In  vain  bright  beauty  droops  in  clouds  of  woe, 
In  vain  the  hero's  laurelled  wreathes  decline, 
In  vain  the  minstrel  swells  the  notes  divine. 
They,  who  afar,  these  bootless  griefs  deride, 
And  stain  the  fair  Ohio's  flowery  tide,  (1) 
32 


250 

Who  the  wrong'd  Indian's  scanty  gatherings  spoil, 
Wrest  his  sole  hope,  and  strip  his  subject  soil ; 
Or  like  the  rattling  serpent  of  the  heath, 
On  the  lone  sleeper  pour  the  darts  of  death — 
They  must  atone — from  them  the  mourners  claim, 
Each  loved  associate,  and  each  treasured  name ; 
Their  cruel  hands  these  desolations  spread, 
Lost,  in  their  cause,  each  martyr' d  stripling  bled ; 
Driven  by  their  rage,  the  forest's  children  roam, 
And  the  lorn  female  wants  a  pitying  home ! 
As  if  that  wild  which  bounteous  heaven  displays, 
From  orient  PHOEBUS  to  his  western  rays — 
Spread  its  broad  breast  in  vain ;  to  them  denies, 
The  gifts  which  nature's  liberal  care  supplies. 

Since  your  own  hills  and  widening  vales  demand, 

The  labouring  ploughshare  and  the  culturing  handr 

Why  must  that  hand  pollute  the  ravaged  heath, 

That  forming  ploughshare  wage  the  deeds  of  death. 

Though  wakening  reason  join  her  forceful  strain, 

Still  shall  dejected  mercy  plead  in  vain ; 

Or  shall  Columbia  hear  the  rude  behest, 

And  clasp  her  murderers  to  her  bleeding  breast, 

Shall  she  with  impious  hand,  and  ruffian  knife, 

From  her  first  offspring  snatch  the  claims  of  life, 

To  nature's  sons  with  tyrant  rage  deny, 

The  woody  mountain,  and  the  covering  sky ! 

Ah  no— eaeh  sainted  shade  indignant  bends, 

Bares  his  deep  wounds,  his  pallid  arm  extends; 

Return,  he  cries,  ere  every  hope  is  lost, 

OHIO  claims  you  on  his  ozier  coast; 

Return  ;  though  late,  your  treacherous  wish  disclaim? 

Awake  to  justice,  and  arise  to  fame  ; 

JVb  more  with  blood  the  blushing  soil  deface, 

Jlnd  spare  the  patient,  suffering,  injured  race, 

To  you  our  lacerated  spirits  turn, 

From  you  demand  a  monumental 


251 

For  you  our  grievous  wounds  uncovered  lie, 

Meet  the  hard  earth,  and  brave  the  drenching  sJh/, 

While  the  sick  moon  unveils  her  pensive  brow, 

And  the  drear  night-bird  swells  the  peal  of  woe. 

Still  the  lorn  shade  its  lurid  vigil  keeps, 

And  oe'r  the  unburied  bones  in  hopeless  horror  weeps. 

Nor  crimson  war,  nor  valour's  glittering  wreath, 
To  the  pale  corse  recall  the  quivering  breath ; 
'Tis  the  mild  power  of  seraph  PEACE  alone 
Can  charm  each  grief,  and  every  wrong  atone  ; 
HER  healing  hand  shall  waft  oblivion  round, 
Pouring  her  opiates  through  each  gushing  wound, 
O'er  the  cold  ghost  a  mantling  Olive  spread, 
And  shade  the  sod  that  laps  THE  GLORIOUS  DEAD. 


EPITAPH, 

ON  DOCTOR  ANDRE  CARENTE.  (1) 


HERE  to  his  kindred  earth  by  ills  resigned, 
CARENTE,  the  doubting  son  of  science  lies  ^ 

In  this  cold  cell  is  fixed  that  faultering  mind, 
Inflamed  by  wisdom,  but  yet  never  wise. 

If,  in  the  hour  his  traitorous  fortune  smiled, 
Averse  he  viewed  the  worldly  art  to  save  ; 

At  last  by  fortune  and  her  sons  beguiled, 
He  lived  to  ask  that  bread  he  wasteful  gave. 

If  shades  of  error  cloud  his  guideless  day, 
As  no  divinity  but  CHANCE  he  knew  ; 

Seek  not  to  draw  the  hiding  veil  away ; 

But  own  by  chance  full  many  a  suffering  grew, 


252 

When  chilled  by  scorn,  with  broken-hearted  care, 
Lonely,  and  lost,  he  heaved  his  trembling  breath  ; 

One  friend  he  found — blest  refuge  of  despair, — 
One  only  kind  remembering  friend  in  death. 


ELEGIAC  LINES, 

T0  THE  MEMORY  OF  MRS.  A.  WIFE  OF  THE  HONOURABLE 
JOHN  C.  J. 


AH  !  what  avails,  that  round  her  angel  face, 
Transcendant  beauty  breathed  its  sottened  grace, 
Or  what  avails  the  friend-surrounded  bier, 
Or  e'en  a  matchless  husband's  hopeless  tear  ! 

That  fancy,  whence  the  pencilled  scenes  arose, 
That  hand  by  which  the  finished  portrait  glows, 
That  touch,  which  taught  the  chorded  notes  to  roll, 
That  voice  whose  warbling  chained  the  captive  soul, 
Unconscious  sleep  !  regardless  of  the  care 
That  grieving  tells  in  life,  how  prized  they  were. 
The  purer  spirit  wings  its  promised  way  — 
While  hovering  seraphs  guard  the  beauteous  clay. 

Bright  as  the  rose,  which  sinks  beneath  the  storm, 
Fair  as  the  gathered  lily's  polished  form  j 
Lamented  shade  !  for  thee  shall  memory  mourn, 
And  living  praise  thy  early  grave  adorn. 

With  every  grace  the  soul  of  sense  to  move, 
Caress'd  by  fortune,  happy  in  thy  love  ; 
Say,  when  did  fate  with  equal  lustre  shine, 
Or  what  blest  husband  knew  a  joy  like  thine  ! 


253 

Won  by  his  worth,  with  thy  perfections  charmed, 
Endeared  by  hope,  with  mutual  fondness  warmed ; 
Each  opening  morn  increasing  pleasure  knew, 
In  scenes  of  bliss  the  closing  day  withdrew. 

GREAT  GOD  OF  WISDOM  !  on  thy  just  decree, 
What  impious  mortal  dare  to  question  thee ! 
Why  the  blest  ABBA  yields  her  valued  breath, 
While  loathing  wretches  court  the  grasp  of  death  ? 
While  some  whom  hard  affliction  calls  her  own, 
Beneath  this  tedious  weight  of  being  groan. 
In  silence  breathe  the  unregarded  sigh, 
And  cloud  with  secret  tears  the  melting  eye  ; 
Or  who  the  hidden  springs  of  fate  can  find, 
What  ruling  power  instructs  the  searching  mind, 
Why  merit  droops,  and  prosperous  vice  beguiles, 
Why  pity  grieves,  and  rude  oppression  smiles ; 
And  while  the  living  miscreant  laughs  at  woe, 
O'er  BEAUTY'S  urn  the  tears  of  VIRTUE  flow ! 


TO  THE  MEMORY 


OF   THE     HONOURABLE    MR.     BOWDOIN,    LATE     GOVERNOR     AND    COM- 
MANDER  IN   CHIEF   OF   THE   STATE   OF   MASSACHUSETTS. 


AH,  BOWDOIN,  if  thy  sainted  shade, 
Still  wander  round  the  cheerless  glade ; 
Or  mid  the  rich  and  sparkling  sky, 
Can  heed  the  muses  plaintive  sigh  ; 
Can  see  a  grateful  country  mourn, 
See  genius  deck  thy  laurelled  urn  : 
While  those  thy  secret  bounty  fed — 
The  tear  of  hopeless  sorrow  shed ; 


254 

Ah,  yet  extend  thy  patriot  care, 
Yet  heed  a  faithful  people's  prayer : 
Some  kindred  soul  of  heavenly  flre, 
With  thy  departed  worth  inspire  ; 
Give  him  to  scan  the  comet's  way, 
To  watch  the  chaste  moon's  bashful  ray, 
To  mark  where  milky  myriads  flow, 
And  see  the  distant  planets  glow  j 
O'er  the  blue  arch  undazzled  gaze, 
Searching  the  sun's  meridian  blaze ; 
And  round  the  vast  perfected  whole, 

Find  ONE    BRIGHT    ORB    OF    GLORY  (1)  roll. 

Then  all  those  sacred  virtues  blend, 
Which  formed  the  husband,  father,  friend. 
The  liberal  praise,  the  cautious  blame, 
The  charity  concealed  from  fame, 
Each  worth,  each  lustre  of  thy  faultless  mind, 
And  with  another  BOWDOIN  grace  mankind. 


AUX  MANES  DE  JULIE, 

FROM   THE   GERMAN     POETRY   OF   A   SCIENTIFIC   FRIEND,   THUS   REN- 
DERED  INTO    FRENCH. 


Quel  Astre  radieux  est  maintenant  ta  demeure, 
O  douce  Julie!  et  dans  quelle  sphere  celeste,  reten- 
tiront  un  jour,  devant  le  ciel,  les  cries  de  joie,  de 
1'amitie  que  s'y  trouvent.  Les  larmes  qu'on  verse 
pour  toi  arroseraient  les  fleurs  d'un  printemps. 
Jeune  vierge,  sois  a  nous,  si  tu  peux,  un  messager 


255 

de  1'Eternite  !    et  que  ta  touchante  voix,  un  jour* 
appelle  ceux  que  tu  aimes ! 

THVS    IMITATED    IN    ENGLISH,    TO    THE    MEMORY    OF    JULIA, 
AGED    FOURTEEN    YEARS. 

SWEET  JULIA  !  say  what  radiant  star  on  high, 
Wafts  thy  young  graces  through  the  glowing  sky  ; 
From  what  harmonious  sphere,  IMMORTAL  FAIR, 
Will  that  charmed  voice  the  tones  of  comfort  bear, 
With  sister  seraphs  chaunt  the  touching  strain, 
And  give  to  hope  thine  angel-form  again  ? 
The  tears  that  unavailing  fondness  pours, 
Shall  meet  the  spring  and  bathe  its  fairest  flowers. 
Emblems  of  thee — now  withering  in  thy  tomb—- 
So fresh  in  youth,  so  fragrant  in  thy  bloom. 

Celestial  scenes  will  every  wish  employ, 
Till  thou,  and  heaven,  restore  a  mother's  joy, 
Yet — if  thou  canst — her  sleepless  cares  controul^ 
Glance  thy  light  vision  on  her  clouded  soul, 
The  veil  of  grief  with  holiest  touch  remove, 
And  point  the  path  of  REUNITED  LOVE. 


MEMENTO, 

FOR    MY   INFANT,    WHO   LIVED    BUT    EIGHTEEN   HOUJVS. 


As  the  pure  snow-drop,  child  of  April  tears, 
Shook  by  the  rough  wind's  desolating  breath — 

Scarce  o'er  the  chilly  sod  its  low  head  rears, 
And  trembling  dies  upon  the  parent  heath. 


256 

iSo  my  lost  boy,  arrayed  in  fancy's  charms, 
Just  born  to  mourn — with  premature  decay 

To  THE  COLD  TYRANT  stretched  his  feeble  arms, 
And  struggling  sighed  his  little  life  away. 

As  not  in  vain  the  early  snow-drop  rose, 

Though  short  its  date,  and  hard  the  withering  gale : 
Since  its  pale  bloom  ethereal  balm  bestows, 

And  cheers  with  vernal  hope  the  wasted  vale. 

My  perished  child,  dear  pledge  of  many  a  pain  ! 

Torn  from  this  ruffian  world,  in  yon  bright  sphere, 
Joins  with  awakened  voice  the  cherub  train, 

And  pours  his  sweet  breath  on  a  mother's  ear. 

Kind  dreams  of  morn  his  fairy  phantom  bring, 

And  floating  tones  of  extasy  impart, 
Soft  as  when  Seraphs  strike  the  heavenly  string 

To  charm  the  settled  sorrow  of  the  heart. 


MONODY, 

TO    THE   MEMORY   OF   GENERAL   HENRY   KNOX,    WHO  DIED  IN 
OCTOBER,   1806.  (1) 


WITH  all  of  nature's  gift,  and  fortune's  claim, 

A  soul  of  honour,  and  a  life  of  fame  ; 

A  warrior-chief  in  victory's  field  renowned, 

A  statesman  with  the  wreath  of  virtue  crowned — 

SUCH,  KNOX,  WERT  THOU  !    Shall  truth's  immortal  strain* 

Recall  thy  deeds,  and  plead  their  worth  in  vain ! 

Sacred  and  sainted  mid  yon  radiant  sky, 

In  vain  shall  friendship  breathe  her  holiest  sigh  ? 


257 

Where  is  that  pity  known  thy  life  to  share, 
Softening  the  beams  by  glory  blazoned  there. 
Lost  like  thy  form,  with  that  unconscious  grown, 
Of  all  thy  fine  affections  called  their  own ! 
Ne'er  shall  that  smile  its  speaking  charm  impart, 
To  win  the  angered  passions  from  the  heart : 
No  more  that  voice  like  melting  music  flow, 
Sweet  in  its  sadness  o'er  another's  woe. 
But  round  thy  tomb  despair  will  live  to  weep, 
Cold  as  the  cearments  of  thy  marble  sleep. 

YET  WERT  THOU  BLEST  !— -ere  age  with  chill  delay 
Quenched  of  the  fervid  mind  its  sacred  ray — 
Heaven  called  thee  hence — nor  nature's  late  decline. 
Saw  thy  full  lustred  fame  forbear  to  shine. 
Called  thee  with  patriot  spirits  earth-approved, 
With  heroes  by  the  QUEEN  OF  OCEAN  loved. 
While  on  that  world  of  waters,  victory  gave, 
Immortal  NELSON  gained  a  glorious  grave. 
When  PITT,  the  soul  of  Albion,  reached  the  skies. 
And  saw  the  RIVAL  OF  HIS  GREATNESS  rise. 
Fox,  loved  of  fame,  an  empire's  guide  and  boast, 
His  voice  subl'me  mid  wondering  plaudits  lost. 
These,  like  thyself — for  God-like  deeds  admired, 
In  the  ripe  Autumn  of  their  years  expired. 
Hence  shall  each  kindred  genius  blend  with  thine, 
And  mingling  in  collected  radiance  shine. 

Honoured  in  life,  in  death  to  memory  dear, 
Not  hopeless  falls  the  tributary  tear. 
For  what  is  death,  but  life's  beginning  hour, 
The  poor  man's  glory,  and  the  good  man's  power; 
Replete  with  every  bliss  we  taste  below, 
Source  of  the  hope  we  feel,  the  truth  we  know. 
Then  not  for  thee,  BLESSED  SHADE!  the  grief  be  given  j 
For  thee,  beloved  on  earth — approved  in 
33 


258 

Thy  cherished  worth  shall  still  retain  the  power* 
To  soothe  the  lonely— bless  the  social  hour, 
And  thy  remembered  virtues  light  the  gloom 
That  death's  deep  night  has  gathered  o'er  thy  tomb. 


RECOLLECTIONS, 


TO   THE   MEMORY    OF    THEOPHILUS    PARSONS,    LATE   CHIEF   JUSTlCfc 
OF    THE   S.    J.    C.    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 


Is  then  that  mind,  whose  all-perceptive  eye, 

Seem'd  an  imparted  light  of  DEITY. 

That  mind  which  from  the  sordid  earth  could  soar 

To  worlds  where  angels  tremble  and  adore ; 

Is  that  extinguished  ? — As  the  sun's  low  ray, 

By  the  cold  twilight  cloud  is  borne  away — 

Or  like  that  sun,  in  heaven's  congenial  clime. 

Again  to  wake,  with  energy  sublime  ! 

Hid,  but  not  lost,  the  undying  part  shall  rise, 

More  pure,  more  just,  more  hallowed,  and  more 

And  as  on  earth  unequalled,  and  alone, 

With  Grod's  own  light  the  immortal  genius  shone. 

Restored  to  heaven,  with  saints  and  angel's  there, 

He  breathes  the  blessing,  lifts  the  guardian  prayer. 

That  eye,  whose  glance,  by  guileless  nature  taught, 
Spoke  the  full  feeling,  beamed  the  unbounded  thought, 
That  smile  assuring,  whose  protective  charm, 
Fell  on  the  timid  heart,  like  pity's  balm, 
With  temper  kind  as  heaven,  whose  cheering  glow. 
Shed  its  warm  beams  on  every  shade  of  woe  : 
That  wit  spontaneous,  whose  attractive  ease, 
Careless  of  pleasing — never  failed  to  please, 


259 

That  moral  wisdom  winning,  yet  severe, 
Which  speechless  wonder  bent  entranced  to  hear. 
These  shall  the  melancholy  thought  restore, 
And  weep  to  think,  they  live  to  charm  no  more. 

Admired  !  beloved !  to  earth's  affections  lost, 
But  throned  in  heaven,  beyond  the  seraph  host, 
Angel !  or  saint !  ah  deign  our  griefs  to  see, 
Nor  let  the  wanderer  memory  stray  from  thee. 


STANZAS, 


UPON  SEEING  AN  IMPERFECT  SKETCH  DESIGNED  FROM  MEMORY,  FOR 
THE  POWERFUL  FEATURES  OF  THE  LATE  AND  EVER  LAMENTED 
PROFESSOR  MC  KEAN. 


How  vain  the  painter's  classic  aim, 
To  keep  that  clear,  an4^4orious  eye, 

Whose  rays  from  heaven's  most  hallowed  flame, 
Touched  close  on  immortality. 

As  vain  the  peaceful  smile  to  trace, 
Which  warm  in  life's  affections  grew, 

And  poured  of  soul  a  speaking  grace, 
To  every  mental  feeling  true. 

Perfection  not  to  man  is  given, 

But  thou  Me  KEAN,  so  kindly  shone, 

That  loved  by  earth,  and  blessed  by  heaven, 
Both  claimed  thy  genius  as  their  own. 

Frail  were  the  wish,  that  soaring  mind, 
These  features  to  God's  image  near, 

Like  the  winged  Eagle,  earth  confined, 
Were  longer  lent  to  languish  here. 


269 


LAMENTATIONS 

QF  AN  UNFORTUNATE  MOTHER,  OVER  THE  TOMB  OF  HER 
ONLY  SON.  (1) 


"  OH  LOST  !"  forever  lost — thy  mother's  eyes, 
No  more  shall  see  thy  morn  of  hope  arise, 
No  more  for  her  its  day  resplendent  shine, 
But  grief  eternal  rule  like  wrath  divine, 
Blotting  from  earth's  drear  scene  each  mental  ray 
That  chased  the  phantom  of  despair  away. 

When  fortune  saw  me  all  her  gifts  resign, 
No  murmur  wakened,  for  thy  love  was  mine ; 
Though  hard  her  frown,  and  many»a  blow  severe 
Called  to  thy  brilliant  eye  the  clouding  tear ; 
Yet  poor  the  boon  that  waits  on  fortunes  store, 
Since  the  full  pampered  heart  still  pines  for  more . 

DISTRESS  on  thee,  my  son,  her  mildews  shed, 
To  blight  the  laurel  blooming  round  thy  head ; 
Chilled  by  her  grasp,  but  not  to  wrongs  resigned, 
For  warm  as  summer  glowed  thine  active  mind ; 
No  syren  pleasure,  potent  to  betray, 
Ere  lured  thy  lone  and  studious  hours  away. 

But  science  on  thy  young  attractions  smiled, 
For  genius  gave  thee  birth,  and  called  thee  child. 
The  painter's  touch,  the  minstrel's  art  divine, 
With  many  a  charm  of  polished  life  were  thine, 
And  thine  the  soul  sublime,  too  ardent  wrought, 
The  impetuous  feeling,  and  the  burst  of  thought ; 
Strong  and  resistless — to  the  few  alone, 
Was  all  the  treasure  of  thy  being  known. 


261 

Cold  was  its  fate — yet  o'er  thy  wrongs  supreme 
Young  GENIUS  rose — with  rich  and  radiant  beam, 
While  the  fine  eye,  to  that  and  nature  true, 
Spoke  all  that  mind  inspired,  or  sorrow  knew. 

POOR  BOY  !  I  thought  thou  o'er  my  urn  would'st  weep  I 
And  grieving  yield  me  to  the  tomb's  last  sleep  ; 
Nor,  in  thy  dawn  of  years,  when  hope  was  gay, 
Like  heaven's  bright  arch  of  promise,  melt  away — 
Lost,  like  a  sun-beam  in  the  spring's  chill  hours, 
And  transient  as  the  garden's  earliest  flowers  : 
But  dearer  thou  than  rays  that  morn  illume, 
And  lovelier  far  than  nature's  vernal  bloom  ; 
These,  when  the  storm  has  past,  again  return, 
But  what  shall  wake  thy  deep  death-slumbering  urn  ? 
What  but  the  voice  of  heaven,  that  strain  divine, 
Which  bids  the  trembling  earth  its  trust  resign. 
Then  the  bold  genius,  and  the  feelings  wild, 
No  more  to  wrongs  and  woes  shall  bear  my  child  ; 
But  that  warm  heart  to  generous  pity  known, 
Which  all  the  grieved  affections  made  their  own, 
With  the  pure  essence  of  that  brain  of  fire, 
Shall  to  a  Seraph's  fervid  flame  aspire ; 
And  angels  with  arch-angels,  pleased  to  find, 
The  blest  expression  of  thy  kindred  mind ; 
Charming  from  memory's  thought  its  earthly  pain, 
Will  give  thee  to  thy  mother's  soul  again. 


262 


STANZAS, 


INDUCED  BY  THE  CIRCUMSTANCE  OF  A  SINGLE  DROP  OF  RAlN,  HAV- 
ING FALLEN  AS  THE  AUTHOR  WAS  ENTERING  THE  UNDER  AISLE 
OF  THE  CHAPEL  CONSECRATED  TO  THE  DEAD. 


SOFT  was  the  drop,  and  seemed  to  flow 
From  heaven — as  if  an  angels  eye, 

Gazing  upon  this  form  of  woe, 
Had  melted  to  its  murmured  sigh. 

Cold  was  the  tear,  and  cold  it  fell, 

Where  never  hope,  nor  life,  shall  warm ; 

Since  sepulchred  those  graces  dwell — 

Which  gave  to  life  and  hope  their  charm  f 

REGION  OF  TEARS  !  thy  echoing  aisle, 
No  strains  but  grief  has  ever  known, 

Fearful  it  freezes  nature's  smile, 
And  looks  on  misery  alone  ! 

Why  does  the  desperate  mourner  call 
On  thee — in  many  an  accent  wild  ? 

Deaf  is  thy  cold  and  clammy  wall — 
Dead  as  the  passions  of  her  child. 

Yet  the  sweet  seraph  peace  is  here, 

Lost  to  the  world,  she  dwells  with  thee  j 

And  gives  from  heaven  an  angel's  tear, 
To  shed  its  pitying  dew  on  me. 

Spirit  of  him  my  soul  adored ! 

When  will  this  bosom  rest  with  thine  ! 
No  more  thy  living  woes  deplored, 

Shalt  thou  and  happiness  be  mine  ? 


263 


STANZAS, 

OCCASIONED   BY   THE   QUESTION   OF   A  FRIEND,   u  WHAT   HAS   PRE- 
SERVED  YOU?" 


WHEN  I  saw  my  youth's  best  treasure, 
Life's  first  blessing  yield  his  breath — 

Did  my  breaking  heart  resign  him, 
To  the  mouldering  caves  of  death  ? 

No — I  watched  him,  fondly  watched  him, 
With  a  mother's  longing  eye  ; 

Gazing  on  each  tranquil  feature, 
Till  it  seemed  too  dear  to  die.  (1) 

.Eight  lorn  days  of  speechless  horror, 
Morning  saw  my  steps  return  ; 

And  the  glooms  of  evening  found  me, 
Weeping  o'er  the  unburied  urn. 

Still  as  cold  as  Parian  marble, 

Were  those  features,  resting  mild— 

But  this  dying  heart  felt  colder, 
Than  the  bosom  of  its  child. 

Dying*  but  not  yet  to  perish, 

Heaven  in  pity  saw  its  woes, 
And  on  calm'd  religion  resting, 

Bid  the  murmurer  find  repose. 

Hovering,  like  an  angel  o'er  me, 
When  of  life  was  lost  the  care-— 

SHE,  the  child  of  hope,  sustained  me, 
SHE  has  saved  me  from  despair. 


264 
LINES 

ENCLOSING   THE   BEAUTIFUL   RINGLETS    OF   MY   SON. 


THOSE  hazle  ringlets,  nature's  boon  designed, 
So  oft  around  my  parting  fingers  twined, 
Shorn  from  their  brow  of  beauty,  seem  to  say, 
His  praise  shall  live,  bright  and  unchanged  as  they. 


APOSTROPHE, 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MY  BELOVED  DAGHTER  CHARLOTTE, 

FRAGMENT. 


DAUGHTER  ADORED  !  and  good,  and  fair, 
As  the  unsinning  angels  were  1 
No  more  the  heaven  that  filled  thine  eyes,. 
Shall  o'er  a  mother's  sorrows  rise, 
Like  the  blue  morning's  soften'd  ray, 
To  charm  the  clouds  of  grief  away. 
That  mother  lived — and  lives — to  see 
The  gift  of  God  recall'd  in  thee : 
Despair's  deep  voice  appall'd  to  hear, 
Slow  whisp'ring  that  thou  art  not  near. 
Despair's  chill  glance  on  anguish 
To  feel  and  know  thy  life  is  gone. 

Ne'er  did  the  tender  morning  shine 
On  deeds  of  filial  love  like  thine : 


265 

Nor  to  the  western  world  was  known 
A  beauty  lovelier  than  thine  own  : 
Genius  was  thine,  and  taste  refined, 
And  gentle  temper's  feeling  mind  ; 
Temper,  whose  fine  unclouded  mien 
Shone  constant,  gracious,  kind,  serene. 
Ah !  what  does  earth's  dim  orb  supply, 
Like  heavenly  temper's  angel  eye  ! 
Or  the  discordant  world  afford 
Of  music,  like  her  answering  word  ! 

Child  of  my  sorrowing  soul !  to  me 
Thou  wert  an  earthly  deity  ! 
Hope  round  thine  infant  pillow  played, 
Hope  in  thine  early  grave  is  laid ; 
A  mother's  hope,  and  lost  despair, 
Has  led  his  haunting  spectres  there. 


LINES, 

TO    THOSE    WHO    HAVE    SAID    "  YOU  ARE    TRANQUIL.' 


IF  calm  the  forehead's  silent  air, 
As  peace  with  folded  wing  were  there  ; 
Nor  tear  betray  the  electric  pain, 
Which  rushes  on  the  trembling  brain  : 
Nor  does  the  speaking  sigh  impart 
What  dies  within  the  closing  heart ; 
As  firm  the  unfaultering  voice  may  seem, 
And  clear  the  cold  eye's  transient  gleam  : 
Yet  has  the  secret  sufferer  known 
To  dwell  on  hope  forever  flown, 
34 


266 

And  that  cold  eye  been  wont  to  weep, 
While  memory  rose — to  murder  sleep. 
Even  thus  the  rainbow's  arch  of  flame, 
In  token  of  deliverance  came  ! 
Though  garb'd  in  nature's  tranquil  form, 
Its  home  the  cloud,  its  birth  the  storm ; 
While  bruised,  the  drooping  groves  declare, 
How  hard  the  thunder's  bolt  struck  there. 

Could  glance,  or  moan,  or  murmur,  show 

That  selfish,  solitary  woe, 

To  one  un wandering  thought  confined 

A  hermit  on  the  desert  mind, 

A  wreck,  from  life's  full  ocean  toss'd, 

In  the  hard  storm  of  anguish  lost, 

Yet  to  the  careless  world  appears, 

Nor  breathed  in  sighs,  nor  drown'd  in  tears  : 

Thus  o'er  the  mansion — home  of  death, 
The  chapel  curves  the  polish'd  dome, 

Where  music  pours  his  angel  breath, 
And  beauty  brings  her  mortal  bloom, 
With  mingling  praise,  and  melting  prayer. 
As  heaven  and  earth  were  meeting  there. 
Mindless  of  RUIN'S  rapid  power, 

Heed  they,  that  near  sepulchral  gloom? 
Where  late  his  sceptred  arm  was  laid 
On  glory's  wreath  and  beauty's  flower, 
Causing  their  blended  tints  to  fade, 

In  the  long  winter  of  the  tomb, 

Heed  they,  in  youth's  beginning  year, 
The  threatening  blast,  cold-hovering  near  I 
Heed  they  mid  life's  meridian  glow 
How  fast  the  falling  shadows  flow, 
Which  evening's  sullen  hours  bestow  ? 

If  sunk  the  earth's  vain  hope  appear, 
Again  its  ray  may  dawn,  and  rise 

Smiles  mingle  with  the  grieving  tear. 
But  cherish'd  sorrow  never  dies 


267 


INVOCATION, 

TO   THE  SHADES   OP   MY   ANCESTORS,    WENTWORTH  AND  APTHORf . 


"  A  proud  inheritance  I  claim, 

In  all  tkeir  sufferings,  all  their  ffime." 

MONTGOMERY, 


SHADOWS  OF  MEN,  revered  and  great ! 
Or  good  !  or  crushed  by  adverse  fate  ! 
O'er  your  devoted  offspring  bend, 
To  her  who  seeks  no  earthly  friend  ! 
Mission'd  of  God,  descend ! 

Let  her  imploring  tear  and  sigh, 
Yield  to  the  thought  that  ye  are  nigh ; 
Guarding  with  blest  paternal  eye, 
The  action  of  her  woes. 

Your  height,  your  fall,  your  wrongs  declare, 
And  show  how  bless'd,  how  cursed  ye  were, 
Prisoned  in  earth's  domains  ; 

Let  STRAFFORD,  (1)  chosen  of  a  king. 
The  features  of  his  history  bring, 
Expressive,  as  when  warm  in  life, 
Ere  the  red  block  and  severing  knife. 
His  monarch's  fearful  faith  bestows, 
How  bright  in  opening  morn  he  rose, 
How  dark  at  fate's  tremendous  close, 
Alternate  joys  and  pains. 

And  ye,  the  blooming  brothers,  (2)  come. 
Victims  of  youth's  untimely  doom ; 


268 

This  to  the  elements  a  prey, 
That  flung  the  gem  of  life  away, 
With  an  unholy  hand. 

Ah !  be  his  ills  thy  lesson  made, 
And  though  enclosed  by  misery's  shade, 
Await  thy  God's  command. 

Distant  and  dark — by  graves  divided — far 
From  her,  who  rose  his  morning's  earliest  star ; 
Her,  whose  sweet  eyes  of  love,  and  polish'd  mind, 
Were  to  the  young  and  graceful  WENT  WORTH  kind, 
Impious— in  plighted  faith  of  heart,  to  share 
The  unpermitted  chalice  of  despair. 

Not  theirs  the  altar's  consecrated  flame, 
Which  soars  to  Heaven  in  honor,  peace  and  fame, 
Whose  chasten'd  light  is  seen  on  earth  to  glow, 
Like  moon-beams  o'er  a  sculptur'd  angels  brow; 
But  theirs  a  meteor-plague  which  threatning  shone, 
Till  every  fluttering  wing  of  fear  had  flown ; 
A  meteor-plague,  whose  inauspicious  ray 

Bore  all  the  blooming  health  of  hope  away. 

#  *  *  # 

*  *  *  * 

That  blessing  which  the  dream  of  passion  sought, 

Waked  to  the  frantic  extasy  of  thought. 

Opposed — in  life  with  fated  fondness  grew, 

Opposed — in  dust  no  mingling  union  knew. 

And  thence,  in  ever  parted  tombs  they  lie, 

Martyrs  of  morbid  love's  insanity. 

Love,  the  betrayer !  near  whose  breath  of  fire, 

The  calm  affections  tremble — or  retire — 

So  in  the  LAND  or  ICE,  mid  stainless  snows, 

His  boiling  strength  the  dangerous  GEYSER  (1)  show 

Powerful  in  mischief — bold  in  beauty  soars 

From  shuddering  earth,  to  heaven's  receding  towers. 

Pervading  all;   but  not  in  all  the  same, 

Here  pale  with  frost,  there  blushing  red  with  flame. 


269 

Chain'd  to  the  rock,  or  lifted  to  the  skies, 
Round  his  white  brow  benignant  rainbows  rise ; 
Hope  in  their  smiles — can  hope  that  breast  reveal, 
Whose  hidden  fires  a  secret  foe  conceal  ? 
Whose  baneful  deeds,  like  GEYSER'S  FOUNTAIN  prove, 
A  heart  that  burns,  or  boils,  with  hate  or  love. 
Destructive  powers  !  if  fiends  on  earth  are  known, 
Their  reign  is  passion — and  its  height  their  throne. 

APTHORP  !  my  proud  paternal  line, 
The  homage  of  my  soul  is  thine, 
Where  CAMBRIA'S  minstrel-realm  appears 
A  beauty — or  in  smiles — or  tears. 
In  scenes,  where  rich  the  sun-beam  glows, 
And  swift  the  sleepless  torrent  flows, 
Beneath  the  mountain's  weight  of  snows—- 
The fathers  of  my  sires,  had  there 
Birth — blessings — griefs,  and  sepulchre  ; 
A  favoured  race,  to  fortune  known, 
Still  on  the  rude  armorial  stone, 
Mid  the  cold  ivy's  trembling  green, 
The  annals  of  their  deeds  are  seen. 
By  Lion-hearted  Richard  led, 
How  bold  they  fought,  how  fearless  bled — 
How  erst  the  shield,  whose  CRESTED  pride, 
A  royal  gift  —in  crimson  dyed, — 
Had  graced  that  Christian  Warrior's  (2)  side, 
Whose  sons,  in  youth's  romantic  day, 
Tempting  rude  ocean's  dangerous  sway, 
To  the  far  land  of  promise  came, 
Not  forced  by  want,  nor  driven  by  shame  ; 
But  to  endearing  fancy  true, 

Fancy,  that  loves  and  woos  the  distant  and  the  new. 
These,  to  the  young  and  lovely  shore, 
The  glories  of  their  lineage  bore, 
Talent,  and  taste,  and  truth  severe, 
And  honour,  as  existence  dear ; 


270 

With  hurrying  passions  unconftned, 
Was  pity's  oft  relenting  mind ; 
And  bount}''s  glowing  heart  so  warm, 
And  beauty  of  celestial  form.  (3) 

The  wanderers  reared  God's  dome  of  prayer. 
And  rest  in  sculptured  memory  there. 
Soon  to  that  honour  sanctioned  tomb, 
The  remnant  of  the  race  shall  come, 
Cold,  slumbering  by  its  relics  lay, 
Unconscious  of  the  kindred  clay. 

SHADES  OP  MY  FATHERS  !  great,  or  good, 
This  heart  yet  glorying  in  your  blood, 
Pleads  for  that  peace  which  earth  denies, 
The  living  branch,  whose  foliage  young, 
Mid  your  deep-rooted  virtues  sprung  j 
With  a  good  angel's  guardian  care, 
Shield  from  the  night-frost  of  despair, 
Driven  by  life's  storms,  its  torn  leaf  lies, 
Immortal,  full  in  bloom  to  rise. 
SIRES  of  a  firm  unbroken  liroe, 
Source  of  my  life — YOUR  HEAVEN  is  MINE 


NOTES. 


NOTE  (1)  Page  30. 

TO  THE  MANSION  OP  MY  ANCESTORS. 
THIS  Mansion,  as  enlarged  and  embellished  by  its  honoured 
proprietor,  the  late  Charles  Apthorp,  Esq.  was  then,  that  is, 
about  the  middle  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  said  to  be  the  scene 
of  every  elegance,  and  the  abode  of  every  virtue.  JVbt»,  its 
beautiful  hall  of  entrance,  arches,  sculpture,  and  base-relief ; 
the  grand  stair-case,  and  its  highly  finished  saloon,  have  been 
removed,  or  partitioned  off,  to  accommodate  the  bank  and  its 
dependencies. 

NOTE  (2)  Page  30. 
"  The  Noble  (2)  there  were  nobly  led." 
Lord  Amherst,  and  Sir  Peter  Warren,  commanders  of  the 
then  army  and  navy,  were  not  only  received  at  the  generous 
ball  and  banquet,  but  also  to  the  continued  hospitality  of  the 
Mansion,  during  their  temporary  residence  in  Boston ;    the 
honoured  proprietor  being  pay-master  to,  and  contractor  for 
the  royal  army  and  navy. 

NOTE  (3)  Page  30. 

"  While  the  Crusader's  shield  (3)  was  seen/" 
The  shield  of  the  Apthorp  arms,  which  bearing  a  mullet 
or  spur,  in  heraldry,  with  truly  Welsh  prepossession,  the  fa- 
mily were  fondly,  perhaps  foolishly,  wont  to  trace  back  to  the 
Crusades. 


272 

NOTE  (4)  Page  30. 
u  Where  my  proud  father's  (4)  infant  eyes." 

In  this  Mansion,  the  father  of  the  author,  with  seventeen 
other  children,  were  born  ;  sixteen  of  them  at  the  particular 
request  of  the  noble  guests,  were  permitted  to  pass  through 
the  well  peopled  and  well  furnished  apartments.  Those 
children,  all,  and  without  exception,  healthy  and  handsome, 
have  perished,  and  for  the  most  part,  before  the  meridian  of 
their  days. 

NOTE  (5)  Page  31. 
"  All,  all  are  lost — (5)  the  bright,  the  fair." 

Not  one  of  their  numerous  descendants  remains,  who  was 
in  existence  before  the  death  of  the  venerated  parent,  and  to 
tradition  alone  are  we  indebted  for  this  memorial  of  true  ex- 
cellence and  generous  hospitality. 

The  beautiful  mother,  also  of  Welsh  origin,  was  grand- 
daughter to  Sir  James  Lloyd,  a  name  which  even  to  the  present 
day,  has  preserved  its  pristine  honours,  unsullied,  and  un- 
diminished. 

Finally,  the  author  presumes  to  hope  that  her  Lines  to  the 
Mansion,  will  not  be  attributed  to  pride,  or  any  self-sufficiency 
whatever,  but  rather  to  feelings  of  true  filial  piety,  and  grate- 
ful commemoration. 

NOTE(I)  Page  32. 

TO  THE  KINDEST  OF  THE  KIND.    (1) 

Truly  these  childish  Lines  were  not  then  seen  by  the  indi- 
vidual to  whom  they  were  inscribed  in  very  early  youth. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  105. 

"  And  a  walled  acre  (1)  awes  the  subject  world." 
Alluding  to  the  well  known  origin  of  Rome. 


273 


NOTE  (2)  Page  106. 

44  Egypt !  from  whom  immortal  hope  (2)  arose?*' 
The  Egyptians  were  the  first  who  asserted  the  immortality 
of  the  soul ;  the  belief  of  which  was  clearly  indicated  by  the 
doctrine  of  the  Metempsychosis. 

NOTE  (3)  Page  106. 

44  Where  great  Sesostris  (3)  rears  his  trophied  bust." 
In  all  the  countries  subjugated  by  this  extraordinary  hero, 
he  erected  pillars  or  statues  of  himself  with  this  inscription, 
u  /  Sesostris,  King  of  Kings,  and  Lord  of  Lords,  subdued  this 
country  by  the  power  of  my  arms  ;"  and  probably  no  conqueror 
has  ever  displayed  so  many  monuments  of  victorious  greatness. 

NOTE  (4)  Page  106. 

44  JVo  more  Osiris  (4)  guards  those  wasted  plains" 
Osiris,  the  inventor  of  the  plough,  was  worshipped  under 
the  form  of  an  Ox,   whom  they  denominated   the   God  Apis 

NOTE  (5)  Page  106. 

14  A*o  pean^d  Isis  (5)  strews  the  golden  grains." 
44 1  Isis,  wife  of  king  Osiris,  am  she,  who  found  corn  for  the 
use  of  man." 

NOTE,  PAGE  106. 
44  Nerved  with  majestic   strength — and  graced  -with  form 

divine" 

None  could  be  compared  to  Xerxes  in  Strength — In  Beauty 
— and  in  Stature.  Gillies'  Greece. 

NOTE  (6)  Page  107. 

44  Chief  of  her  choice,  her  Great  Civilian  (6)  reigns." 
This  merely  required  the  name  of  John  Adams,  and  is  now 
rendered    superfluous,  by  the  previous  notice  of  the    Odes 
having  been  written  during  his  presidency. 


274 

NOTE  (1)  Page  127. 
"  For  all  the  life  of  genius  breathe*  in  thee."  (1) 

The  father  of  this  fortunate  child,  Mr.  Featherstone  Hall, 
a  man  of  science  and  profound  learning,  is  said  to  be  a  li- 
neal descendant  of  one  ot  the  Scotch  heroes  ;  of  the  great  Sir 
Walter.  The  beautiful  and  accomplished  mother,  daughter 
to  the  late  Judge  Duane,  of  the  S.  J.  C.  of  New  York,  was, 
and  surely  is,  lovely  in  person,  amiable  in  heart,  and  en- 
lightened in  understanding ;  nor  shall  it  be  forgotten,  that  at  a 
period  of  ill  health,  and  great  mental  distress,  the  present 
writer  was  indebted  to  this  eloquent  beauty  for  consolations  of 
voice,  and  refinement  of  mind  and  manner,  whose  tender  and 
unaffected  charm  has  seldom  been  equalled,  and  can  never  be 
excelled. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  135. 
u  How  many  the  branches,  how  mighty  the  tree."  (1) 

This  may  be  said  to  apply  literally,  and  metaphorically ; 
literally,  in  allusion  to  that  genealogical  tree,  which  every 
Welsh  gentleman  is  sure  to  possess,  and  to  preserve ;  meta- 
phorically, as  to  the  living  branches  of  a  family,  nearly  all 
lost  in  the  deep  of  the  tomb. 

NOTE  (2)  Page  135. 

EPISTLE    TO    THEOPHILUS  PARSONS. 

This  great  and  good  man,  the  ornament  of  his  profession, 
of  his  country,  and  of  the  world,  having,  in  the  highest  judi- 
cial station,  enlightened  by  his  wisdom  and  instructed  by  his 
virtues  but  for  the  short  term  of  eight  years,  was  then,  by 
divine  will,  suddenly  called  from  life,  its  usefulness,  and  its 
honours,  before  disease  or  decay  had  weakened  the  faculties  of 
his  unequalled  mind,  or  touched  the  kind  temper  of  his  feel- 
ing heart. 

In  commemoration  of  him  who  cannot  die,  an  obituary  de- 
lineation will  be  found  on  these  pages ;  a  delineation  inade- 
quate, but  expressive  of  the  gratitude  which  favours  and 


275 

benefits  had  inspired,  and  will  perpetuate  with  the  existence 
of  memory  and  mind  in  the  author. 

NOTE  (3)  Page  136. 
"  Guide  of  the  laws  (3)  an  empire's  boon  and  boast." 

This  should  have  been  Page   135,  Note  (2),  as  fully  ex- 
plained by  "  The  highest  judicial  station." 

NOTE  (1)  Page  139. 
"  Whether  the  helm  of  state  (1)  to  guide." 
As  a  member  of  the  General  States  Convention. 

NOTE  (2)  Page  139. 
"  Or  bid  the  storm  of  war  subside"  (2) 
As  one  of  the  Commissioners  for  establishing  the  Treaty  of 
Peace. 

NOTE  (3)  Page  139. 
«  From  Afric  catch  the  falling  tear."  (3) 

As  President  of  the  First  American  Society  for  the  Aboli- 
tion of  the  Slave  Trade. 

NOTE  (4)  Page  139. 
u  O'er  the  stern  courts  of  law  preside."  (4) 

As  Chief  Justice  of  the  S.  J.  Court  of  the  United  States. 

These  Lines  were  first  impelled  by  the  circumstance  of  the 
Honourable  Mr.  Jay's  having  lost  his  Election  to  the  Chair  of 
Government,  through  the  manoeuvres  of  an  exasperated  Party 
counteracting  the  Choice  of  the  People — which  choice  was 
indisputably  established  at  the  next  Trial. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  150. 
"  And  such  does  Europe^  s  scourge  (1)  appear." 

Napoleon  Bonaparte,  at  that  period  the  scourge  and  des- 
troyer of  southern  Europe. 


276 

The  following,  extracted  from  a  recently  published  work, 
has  only  to  substitute  the  name  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte  for 
that  of  the  Roman,  and  the  similitude  is  complete. 

"  Aaron  Burr,  the  Julius  Cesar  of  America,  was  the  most 
astonishing  man  of  his  age  ;  a  man  that  inspired  spirit  into 
every  thing-  material  or  immaterial  with  which  he  came  in 
contact ;  a  man  who  went  about  working  treason^  tampering 
with  the  bravest  and  stoutest  hearts  of  our  country,  in  the 
light  of  heaven,  with  an  audacity  unlike  any  thing  ever  seen 
in  the  history  of  disaffection ,  setting  our  laws  at  defiance — 
mocking  at  our  strength — doing  that,  which  now  he  has  fail- 
ed, has  been  called  madness ;  yet  for  which  all  the  talent,  the 
learning,  and  the  power  of  the  country  were  unable  to  pun- 
ish him  !  A  man,  that  poured  his  spirit  of  revolt,  like  a  flood 
of  fire,  into  every  heart  that  he  came  near — disturbing  the 
oldest  and  most  cautious  of  our  veterans ;  one  that  seemed  to 
put  himself,  life  and  name,  into  the  power  of  every  human 
creature  that  he  approached ;  yet  with  all  this  seeming,  he 
was  never  in  the  power  of  mortal  man,  as  Wilkinson  and 
Eaton  can  shew  ;  a  man  that  suffered  the  legal  wisdom  of  the 
whole  country  to  array  itself  against  him,  without  trembling, 
and  then,  just  put  out  enough  of  his  own  strength  and  no 
more,  to  defeat  and  shame  them. 

"  Since  the  time  of  the  Roman,  there  has  never  been  a 
man  upon  this  earth  so  like  Julius  Cesar,  as  Aaron  Burr." 

NOTE  (2)  Page  151. 
"  Ambition  by  the  bard  defined."  (2) 
"  Ambition  first  sprung  from  your  blest  abodes, 
"  The  glorious  fault  of  Angels  and  of  Gods." 

NOTE  (I)  Page  172. 
"  Yet  to  that  fame  new  honours  (1)  give." 
See  the  national  monument  erected  over  the  relicks  of 
General  Montgomery  at  New  York,  in  1819. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  176. 

INSCRIBED  TO    THE    ORATOR    OF    THE    CENTURY.    (1) 

These  Stanzas  were  written  at  the  immediate  moment  of 


277 

reading  the  address  of  the  orator  to  the  pilgrims,  upon  the 
completion  of  the  second  century  of  their  establishment  on 
the  Rock  of  Plymouth. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  201. 

THE   AFRICAN    CHIEF.  (1) 

Taken  in  arms,  fighting  for  his  freedom,  and  inhumanly 
butchered  by  his  conquerors  !  This  affecting  event  was  fully 
delineated  in  the  various  Gazettes  of  that  period. 

NOTE  (2)  Page  202. 
u  When  erst  Messenias  (2)  sons  oppressed." 
The  Messenians  being  conquered  by  the  Spartans,  and  ag- 
reeably to  the  custom  of  the  age,  the  miserable  remnant  led 
into  slavery,  under  these  circumstances  were  so  inhumanly 
oppressed,  that  rising,  and  united  in  arms,  they  seized  upon 
a  Spartan  fortress,  and  after  innumerable  injuries,  inflicted 
and  reciprocated,  finally  obtained  their  freedom. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  210. 

CHARACTERISTIC    PORTRAIT.  (1) 

The  above  delineation  was  intended  for  a  diplomatic 
character,  recently  returned  to  the  retirement  of  his  own 
country,  with  a  determination,  it  was  said,  not  again  to  em- 
ploy his  splendid  talents  in  her  public  service,  either  at  home 
or  abroad. 

It  is  also  proper  to  add,  even  as  it  is  true— that  though 
originally  intended  for  the  public  papers,  this  was  never  print- 
ed until  now.  The  possible  impropriety  which  might  have 
been  attached  to  the  motives  of  the  author,  had  she  been 
traced  and  discovered,  restraining  her  temerity. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  214. 

PROPHECY  INSCRIBED    TO    COMMODORE  JOHN  RODGERS.  (l) 

This  prophecy  was  literally  fulfilled  by  the  energy  of  arm, 
and  of  mind,  victoriously  displayed  in  the  heroic  defence  by 
Commodore  Rodgers,  of  the  city  of  Baltimore. 


278 

NOTE  (1)  Page  217. 
a  Like  him  who  bleeds  in  victory"  (1) 

Ere  recovered  from  his  dangerous  wounds,  Major  General 
Brown  was  seen  returning  to  war  and  to  victory. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  219. 
"  The  star  of  Empire  falls  with  thee.  (1) 

It  will  probably  be  perceived  that  the  chorus  of  the  above 
song,  is  in  allusion  to  Bishop  Berkley's  prophecy : — 

"  Westward  the  course  of  Empire  bends  its  way, 

"  The  four  first  acts  already  past, 
«  The  fifth  shall  close  the  drama  of  the  day, 
"  Time's  noblest  offspring  is  the  last." 

NOTE  (1)  Page  229. 

The  atrocious  Lord  Rochester  was  converted  to  Christiani- 
ty by  Bishop  Burnet ;  at  the  time,  and  during  the  sufferings 
of  an  incurable  decline  of  constitution.  Upon  which  occa- 
sion, the  horrors  of  his  wretched  mind,  and  the  reproaches 
ol  his  awakened  conscience,  seem  property  to  illustrate  the 
contrast  of  religious  trust  and  error. 

The  younger  Lord  Lyttleton  died  as  he  had  lived,  wretched 
in  principles,  miserable  in  conduct,  hopeless  in  sickness,  and 
appalled  in  death  ;  which  was  accelerated  by  the  famous  dream 
of  the  lady,  and  the  bird,  &c.  &c.  and  most  probably  made 
more  immediate  by  the  proud  and  painful  suppression  of  his 
desperate  feelings,  occasioning  one  of  the  ventricles  of  the 
heart  to  burst,  by  which  he  expired. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  234. 

THE   SABBATH,    (l) 

These  lines  were  ocasioned  by  the  sarcastic  question  of  a 
fellow  traveller,  "  Can  you  worship  out  of  the  pale  of  your 
own  church  ?" 


279 

NOTE(I)  Page  238. 
"  Such  was  a  Mayhems  (1)  soul  of  zeal" 

Mayhew  and  Howard  were  Divines  established  to  preach 
the  Gospel  in  the  former  Sanctuary,  the  Reverend  Mr.  Lowell, 
a  young  man  amiable  and  eloquent,  was  the  ordained  Pastor 
of  the  new  Church. — These  three  Stanzas  being  local  and  per- 
sonal, might  be  omitted  upon  any  occasion  for  which  the  re- 
maining lines  might  be  made  applicable. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  240. 

PRAISE  AND  PRAYER  TO  GOD.    (1) 

In  this  Hymn,  the  Author  has  in  part  attempted  to  imitate 
the  subl'me  adoration  of  the  North  American  Indian,  express- 
ed in  the  following  Prayer  • 

"  Oh  ETERNAL,  have  mercy  upon  me — because  I  am  passing 
"  away  ! — O  INFINITE — because  I  am  but  a  speck  ! — Oh  most 
"  MIGHTY — because  I  am  weak  ! — Oh  SOURCE  OF  LIFE — because 
u  I  draw  nigh  to  the  Grave — Oh,  OMNISCIENT — because  I  am  in 
"  darkness  ! — Oh  ALL-BOUNTEOUS — because  I  am  poor  ! — Oh 
"  ALL-SUFFICIENT — because  I  am  nothing !" 

NOTE  (1)  Page  244. 

INTENDED  FOR  A  YOUNG  ECCLESIASTIC,  RECENTLY    ORDAINED    ONE    OF 
THE  PASTORS  OF  THE  ROMAN  CATHOLIC  CHURCH,    (l) 

In  apology — It  is  observed,  that  these  Stanzas  were  im- 
mediate upon  hearing  a  Sermon  by  the  young  Priest,  enforc- 
ing u  the  Duty  of  Penance" — on  which  very  solemn  occasion 
some  among  the  more  youthful  females  appearing  to  be  rather 
too  much  charmed,  it  was  thought  that  the  injunction,  seem- 
ingly intended  for  the  Pastor,  might  not  be  wholly  lost  upon 
the  Penitent. 

NOTE  (2)  Page  244. 

"  And  thou  like  him  whose  trust  (2)  is  thine." 
In  allusion  to  the  enlightened  and  truly  Right  Reverend 


280 


Bishop  Cheverus,  at  this  time  Primate  of  the  Roman  Catho- 
lic Churches  over  the  N.  E.  States. 

By  every  Sect,  and  Order  of  Christians,  is  this  eloquent 
Prelate  admired,  approved,  and  beloved. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  249. 
"  And  stain  the  fair  Ohio's  flowery  tide."  (1) 

The  War,  productive  of  these  ever-lamented  disasters,  was 
said  to  have  been  instigated  by  the  rapacious  cruelty  of  the 
more  Savage  White  Settlers,  who  encroaching  upon  the  Indian 
Territory,  carried  Desolation  and  Death  even  to  the  Habita- 
tion of  their  Women — finally  exasperating  the  Sufferers  to 
Deeds  of  reciprocated  Violence,  which  deeds  were  termina- 
ted by  a  War,  as  fatal  to  Honour  as  to  Innocence. 

NOTE(I)  Page  251. 

ON  DOCTOR  ANDRE  CARENTE.  (l) 

This  Soi-disant  materialist,  with  an  Infidel  head,  but  a  feel- 
ing heart ;  wasteful  in  prosperity,  and  discarded  in  distress, 
was  finally  suffered  to  perish,  amid  the  bitterness  of  unremem- 
bered  services  and  unregarded  poverty  ;  having  experienced 
the  contrasted  extremes  of  prodigal  affluence,  and  deserted 
indigence. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  254. 
"Find  one  bright  orb  of  glory  (1)  ro//." 
MR.  BOWDOIN,  in  his  Astronomical  observations,  supported 
the  Theory  of  an  "  ALL  SURROUNDING  ORB."     This  Theory  has 
generated  discussion  and  occasioned  doubt,  as  not  reducible  to 
Philosophic  certainty  ;  yet  it  is  generally  allowed  to  indicate 
original  Thought  and  profound  Investigation. 


NOTE  (1)  Page  256, 

F  GENERAL  KNOX,  WHO 
1806.    (1) 

The  year  that  deprived  his  family,  his  friends  and  his  coun- 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  GENERAL  KNOX,  WHO  DIED  IN  OCTOBER, 
1806.    (1) 


281 

try  of  the  society,  the  virtues,  and  the  services  of  the  heroic 
and  amiable  Knox ;  the  three  great  Luminaries  of  the  Elder 
World  were  likewise  extinguished. 

NOTE(I)  Page  258. 
NOTE. 

In  Page  1 35  of  this  work,  will  be  seen  an  Epistle  to  THEO- 
PHILUS  PARSONS. — But  too  soon  after  that  was  written,  were  the 
distressed  feelings  of  the  Author  called  to  substitute  an  Obi- 
tuary of  this  Great  and  Good  Man — whom  she  there  seemed 
to  admonish. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  260. 

LAMENTATIONS  OF  AN  UNFORTUNATE  MOTHER,  OVER  THE  TOMB  OF 
HER  ONLY  SON.  (1) 

Charles  Ward  Apthorp  Morton  expired  of  a  Dropsy  of  the 
Brain,  a  disease  always  accompanied  by  premature  but  ex- 
traordinary capacity.  Its  fatal  termination  was  accelerated 
by  sedentary  habits  and  intense  study.  In  his  very  early 
childhood  he  appeared  a  prodigy  of  genius  ; — and  entered  the 
University  at  thirteen — where  he  gave  the  fairest  promise  of 
excellence  in  Science  and  the  Fine  Arts  ;  for  although  en- 
dowed by  nature  with  a  taste  for  the  Sister  Powers  of  Music, 
Painting  and  Poetry ;  from  his  devotion  to  the  more  honoura- 
ble pursuits  of  Science,  he  relinquished  these  but  a  short 
time  previous  to  his  last  illness.  His  heart  was  noble  and 
sincere ;  abounding  with  passions,  and  affections.  His  integri- 
ty unblemished  and  his  death  productive  of  self-despair  to 
his  unfortunate  Mother. 

At  his  early  age  having  already  made  Improvements  in 
Medical  Electricity  ;  for  which  he  received  a  Certificate  from 
the  President  and  Professors  of  Harvard  University.  But 
his  whole  existence  was  that  of  suffering,  owing  to  the  ori- 
ginal feebleness  of  his  constitution  and  the  energetic  sensi- 
bility of  his  mind. 

36 


282 


NOTE  (1)  Page  263. 
Till  it  seemed  too  dear  to  die.  (1) 

This  is  no  poetical  fiction.  When  it  was  thought  incum- 
bent to  perform  the  last  pious  obligation,  resigning  the  dead 
to  the  sepulchre  of  his  maternal  Ancestors,  under  the  despe- 
rate possibility  that  life  was  not  wholly  extinguished,  his  de- 
solate Mother  continued  to  visit  the  melancholy  aisle,  in 
which  his  remains  were  deposited,  until  even  that  last  Hope 
was  extinguished — and  "  Another  and  a  better  world"  alone 
remains  to  console  her  incurable  afflictions. 

NOTE,  Page  264. 
"  Daughter  adored !  and  good,  and  fair," 

That  this  melancholy  Apostrophe,  and  in  addition  to  this — 
the  Stanzas  in  page  67 — was  and  were  correctly  just,  and  free 
from  the  exaggeration  of  maternal  enthusiasm,  the  Author 
appeals  to  the  recollections  of  hundreds — perhaps  thousands 
— of  living  individuals,  who  have  seen  Charlotte  Morton  in 
the  dawn  of  fifteen,  and  these  will  surely  admit,  that  a  Beauty 
more  brilliant — a  Temper  more  celestial — and  a  Mind  more 
enriched  by  Talents  and  by  Virtues,  had  never  met  observa- 
tion, nor  inspired  affection. 

A  complexion  of  the  most  delicate  bloom,  large  dark  eyes 
of  enchanting  blue,  long  ringlets  of  flaxen  gold,  in  which  no 
tint  of  the  auburn  nor  approach  to  the  red  were  seen,  a  smile 
seemingly  of  itself  perfect  beauty — an  ivory  neck  and  shoul- 
ders, in  symmetry  a  model  for  sculpture — sweetness,  softness, 
elegance — a  musician,  a  painter,  a  poet. 

This  beautiful  and  highly  gifted  being  was  married  early, 
and  perished  in  the  morning  of  her  days,  the  victim  of  cares, 
and  of  climate — leaving  her  affectionate  Mother  the  sole 
consolation  of  remembering  that  the  two  last  happy  years 
of  her  life  were  passed  under  the  parental  roof,  until  within 
three  months  of  her  decease,  when  at  the  request  of  her 
absent  husband  she  voluntarily  followed  his  fortunes,  and  be- 
came the  affectionate  victim  of  conjugal  duty. 


283 

NOTE,  Page  265. 

"  A  mothers  hope,  and  lost  despair, 

Has  led  his  haunting  spectres  there." 

********* 

This  fragment  was  immediately  impelled  by  reading  her 
last  faithfully  fond  Letter  to  a  dear  and  distressed  Mother. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  267. 
"  Let  Strafford,  (1)  chosen  of  a  king." 

Thomas  Wentworth,  Earl  of  Strafford,  the  Minister,  and  fa- 
vourite of  Charles  the  First,  sacrificed  by  that  Monarch  to 
his  own  personal  safety — was  beheaded  near  the  end  of  the 
reign.  Charles,  in  his  last  moments,  declared  that  he  suffer- 
ed justly  for  having  given  up  the  Earl  of  Strafford  to  popular 
fury. — See  Hume's  History. 

The  near  Relations  of  this  Nobleman  were  the  founders  of 
the  American  Family  of  Wentworth.  This  family  being  pre- 
sumptive heirs  to  the  now  extinct  Title  of  that  Earldom  of 
Strafford. 

NOTE  (2)  Page  267. 
"  And  ye,  the  blooming  brothers,  (2)  come." 

These  were  Henry  and  Samuel  Wentworth,  the  maternal 
uncles  of  the  Author,  both  perished  before  they  had  attained 
the  age  of  20.  The  first,  on  a  northern  voyage  of  curiosity 
and  improvement,  was  entangled  amid  floating  masses  of  ice, 
and  in  that  situation  expired  along  with  the  whole  ship's 
company,  passengers  and  seamen. 

His  young  brother,  Samuel  Wentworth,  having  been  invit- 
ed to  England  by  his  noble  relatives,  was  under  the  patronage 
of  those,  admitted  as  student  at  the  Temple  ;  at  which  period 
he  first  met  Miss  Lane,  the  object  of  his  honourable  passion, 
and  the  cause  of  his  fatal  misfortunes,  the  daughter  of  a  great 
commercial  house  oi  that  period.  Her  large  inheritance,  by 
her  father's  will,  made  dependent  on  the  pleasure  of  her 


284 


mercantile  brother,  to  the  aristocracy  of  whose  wealth, 
young  Wentworth  could  only  oppose  nobility  of  birth,  accom- 
plishment of  mind  and  beauty  of  person,  possessions  which  the 
man  of  commerce  held  as  nothing,  compared  with  the  supe- 
rior treasures  of  monied  interest. 

Consequently  the  love  was  prohibited,  and  the  lover  ba- 
nished from  his  mistress ;  who  though  closely  imprisoned  in 
her  own  apartment,  found  means  to  preserve  an  epistolary 
connection.  The  correspondence  encreasing  the  enthusiasm 
of  restricted  passion,  until  every  possible  hope  of  their  union 
being  extinguished,  a  deadly  vial  was  obtained,  and  the  con- 
tents, equally  divided,  were  at  one  desperate  moment  swal- 
lowed by  both.  Their  last  desire,  of  being  buried  in  the 
same  grave,  was  denied. 

These  frantic  and  too  affectionate  lovers,  finished  the  short 
career  of  their  miseries  on  the  birth  day  of  Wentworth,  be- 
ing that  which  completed  the  nineteeth  year  of  his  age.  And 
it  is  not  irrelevant  to  adrl,  that  the  brother  of  the  lady  lived 
to  lose  his  immense  possessions,  and  died  desolate  and  dis- 
tressed ;  at  which  period,  we  trust,  repentance  came,  and  for- 
giveness was  awarded. 

NOTE  (1)  Page  268. 
"  His  boiling  strength  the  dangerous  Geyser  (1)  shows. 

THE  GREAT  GEYSER,  or  Boiling  Fountain  of  Iceland,  ejects  a 
stream  of  boiling  water,  sometimes  more  than  a  hundred  feet 
upward,  wrapped  in  foam — and  encircled  by  beautiful  rain- 
bows, burying  itself  beneath  the  rock,  and  ascending  the  skies 
in  constant  alternation — the  effect  of  subterranean  fires  some- 
times giving  the  appearance  of  deep  red  or  green  to  parts  of 
the  Geyser. — See  Sir  G.  S.  Mackenzie.  Also,  I  think ;  Dr. 
Henderson,  the  last  Traveller  who  has  published  Observations 
on  the  Great  Geyser. 


285 


NOTE,  Page  269. 
w  Apthorp  !  my  proud  paternal  line." 

John,  the  founder  of  the  transatlantic  race  of  Apthorp,  was 
a  man  of  taste  and  talent  in  the  Fine  Arts ;  particularly  those 
of  Painting  and  Architecture.  A  taste  and  talent,  which  has 
in  some  instance  been  transmitted  to  his  descendants  even  of 
the  fifth  generation. 

An  ardent  imagination,  and  an  ambitious  desire  of  mental 
improvement,  led  him  from  his  native  country  of  Wales. 
And  in  England,  he  saw,  loved,  and  married,  Miss  Ward,  a 
celebrated  beauty,  with  a  large  fortune,  whose  Portrait,  by 
Sir  Peter  Lely,  yet  remains  with  her  descendant.  This  por- 
trait is  distinguished  by  the  long  dark  eyes,  which  that  artist 
preferred  and  made  fashionable. 

The  qualities  of  both  parents  live,  and  are  conspicuous  in 
some  of  their  descendants.  A  highly  respectable  individual 
of  these,  whose  superiority  of  mind  may  possibly  disdain 
such  recollections,  was,  in  his  minority,  so  transcendantly 
handsome,  that  upon  a  Tour  through  the  Southern  States,  he 
was  generally  designated  "  The  Eastern  Angel."  As  he  now 
is,  the  Genius  of  Canova,  might  design  that  form  as  a  model 
for  the  sublime  statue  of  melancholy,  since  his  fortunes  have 
fallen — like  those  of  his  race — a  voluntary  sacrifice  to  the 
best  sentiments,  and  the  noblest  feelings  of  humanity,  while 
domestic  bereavements  coming  yet  nearer  to  his  gracious 
heart  have  left  it  the  prey  of  sorrow. 

Charles  Bulfinch,  Esq.  of  Washington,  at  this  time,  the 
National  Architect,  is  one  more  evidence  of  the  inestimable 
happiness  of  a  good  descent. 

NOTE  (4)  Page  270. 

"  The  wanderers  reared  God^s  dome  of  prayer^ 
And  rest  in  sculptured  memory  there"  (4) 

The  present  Stone  Chapel — originally  the  King's  Chapel — 
founded  by  Royalty,  was  finished  by  the  generosity  of  indi- 
viduals. Charles  Apthorp^  Esq.  the  son  of  John,  gave  5000/, 


286 


sterling,  a  very  large  sum  for  the  Provinces  at  that  period, 
about  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

His  Marble  Monument  with  a  very  fine  Latin  Inscription, 
by  his  Son,  still  remains  in  the  Chapel,  which  Monument 
covers  the  Tomb  of  the  truly  noble-minded  race  of  Apthorp. 
How  erst  the  shield,  whose  crested  pride. 

The  Crest,  if  not  the  whole  Armorial  Bearing,  is  thought 
or  said  to  have  been  conferred  upon  the  Battle  Field  by 
Richard. 


IN  APOLOGY  for  what  may  properly  be  termed 
a  mere  medley  of  mind,  in  Thoughts  and  Frag- 
ments; it  seems  honest  to  explain  how  written, 
and  why  published. 

Far  from  having  originally  presumed  to  attempt 
regulating  the  capacities,  or  amending  the  hearts 
of  others ;  the  sole  view  of  the  author  has  been, 
to  correct  and  console  her  own. 

A  series  of  disappointments,  with  distress,  cruel- 
ly aggravated  by  the  premature  death  of  very  dear 
children,  having  left  that  stagnation  of  heart,  and 
that  pulsation  of  brain,  which  sometimes  seems  to 
precede  the  most  deplorable  of  human  miseries ;  to 
avert  the  apprehended  possibility  of  this,  the  aid 
of  constant  occupation,  and  continued  self-examina- 
tion, was  resorted  to ;  that  self-examination  inducing 
recollection,  and  impelling  resolution,  as  to  cause, 
effect,  and  remedy. 

The  early  morning  and  the  late  evening,  given 
to  the  question  of  her  own  faults,  many  mistakes, 
and  continued  afflictions,  the  result  of  such  enquiry 
was  committed  to  fragments  of  paper,  with  the 
single  intent  of  being  referred  to,  and  acted  upon 


288 

by  the  author's  solitary  self,  who — not  of  the  world, 
yet  stood  among  them — and  met  the  frowns,  and 
passed  the  smiles  of  the  many,  and  had  THOUGHTS, 
and  essayed  to  write  of  them  also. 

Finally,  the  accumulation  of  Fragments  occa- 
sioning difficulty  of  selection,  these  were  arranged 
by  the  author,  and  slowly  transcribed  into  one 
manuscript — sufficient  for  a  book — that  is,  sufficient 
in  pages — but  probably  insufficient  in  every  other 
requisite  ;  this  was  her  belief,  and  this  belief  virtu- 
ally confirmed  by  the  opinion  of  some  to  whom  a 
very  small  portion  of  the  work  had  been  timidly 
communicated. 

And  yet,  under  every  personal  and  particular 
discouragement,  the  author  could  think  that  those 
poor  fragments,  which  had  done  so  much  for  the 
dispositions  of  her  own  mind,  might,  under  similar 
exigencies,  effect  something  for  the  benefit  of 
others ;  and  with  this  impression  stampt  on  her 
heart,  she  had  the  temerity  to  apply  to  one,  who 
honours  and  hallows  the  cloth  that  he  wears,  and  by 
the  unerring  genius  of  that  one,  was  countenanced, 
favoured,  and  encouraged,  and  did  venture — even 
amid  existing  fears,  appalling  predictions,  and  con- 
scious inefficiency,  to  hope,  and  to  ask  for  patro- 
nage— and  that  patronage  was  awarded  by  the 
gentle  and  the  generous  ;  and  if  ultimately  suppos- 
ed to  have  been  lavished  upon  the  dull,  and  the 
incompetent,  will  surely  not  be  thrown  away  upon 
the  assuming  and  the  ungrateful. 

S.  W.  M. 


289 


ERRATA. 

The  following  Lines,  having  been  omitted  in  their  proper 
place,  solely  by  the  fault  of  the  Author,  are  here  inserted,  as 
seemingly  essential  to  illustrate  the  historical  series  of  ex- 
treme events,  compelled  by  the  power  and  progress  of  Time. 

These  Lines  the  Reader  will,  if  he  please,  supply,  p.  106. 

"  Where  great  Sesostris  rears  his  trophied  bust 
A  mouldering  pageant  and  an  empty  name." 

Whose  harness'd  steeds — a  mournful  band ! — 

Were  monarchs,  conquered  by  his  hand ! 

The  trappings,  which  their  shoulders  bore, 

Once  royal  robes,  were  stiff  with  gore 

'  Till  TIME,  a  friend  to  Misery  true, 

The  victim, — or  the  victor,  slew  ; 

And  held  the  car,  or  heav'd  the  chain, 

Of  this  the  triumph — that  the  pain — 

The  car — the  chain — whose  blended  sway 

The  happy  and  the  hurt  obey. 

Egypt,  whose  meads  the  barbarous  Turk  deflowers, 

While  the  wild  Arab  mocks  her  murdered  powers, 

Assisting  thee  to  blight  her  fading  fame. 


Page  130,  Line  16— foT  faithfulness  read  faithlessness, 

"  142,      "       6— for  warm  read  moist. 

"  155,      "       8— for  fired  read  proud. 

u  178,      "     15 — for  bringing  read  bring. 


37 


JOHN  ADAMS,  late  President  of  the  United  States* 
His  Excellency  JOHN  BROOKS,  Governor  of  Massachusetts. 
His  Honor  WILLIAM  PHILLIPS,  Lieutenant  Governor — 6  copies. 
Hon.  ISAAC  PARKER,  Chief  Justice  Supreme  Judicial  Court. 
Hon.  RUFUS  KING,  late  Minister  to  the  Court  of  St.  James. 
Hon.  G.  W.  ERVING,  late  Minister  to  the  Court  of  Madrid — 4  cop, 
Hon.  WILLIAM  EUSTIS,  late  Minister  to  the  Hague. 


Hatrtcs 


Names. 


Mrs.  Ann  Adams, 
Mrs.  E.  Andrews, 
Mrs.  H.  P.  Andrews, 
Mrs.  Catharine  Baxter, 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Baylies, 
Mrs.  Ann  Beale, 
Mrs.  Mary  B.  Bush, 
Mrs.  Abby  C.  Cobb, 
Mrs.  Catharine  Codman, 
Mrs.  Caroline  Cooke, 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Crocker, 
Mrs.  S.  Bowdoin  Dearborn. 
Mrs.  Derby, 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Gray, 
Mrs.  Frances  Gray, 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Greenleaf, 


Places. 

Quincy. 

Dorchester. 

Boston. 

Quincy. 

Taunton. 

Quincy. 

Taunton. 

Taunton. 

Quincy. 

Dorchester. 

Taunton. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Dorchester. 

Quincy. 


Copies, 


292 


Names. 

Mrs.  Mary  Greenleaf, 
Mrs   Harriet  L.  Hodges, 
Mrs.  Humphreys, 
Mrs.  Manigault, 
Mrs.  Hannah  Miller, 
Mrs.  Jonathan  Phillips, 
Mrs.  Eliza  S.  Quincy, 
Mrs.  R.  Ruggles, 
Mrs.  Charlotte  L.  Russell, 
Mrs.  Mary  Sargent, 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Ann  Sproat, 
Mrs.  Ann  Storer, 
Mrs.  H.  Swan, 
Mrs.  Jonathan  Warren, 
Miss  H.  Weld, 
Mrs.  Abigail  West, 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  O.  Williams, 
Mrs.  Julia  C.  Wingate, 


Nathaniel  Amory, 
Jonathan  Amory,  Esq. 
W.  B.  Andrews, 
Nathaniel  Appleton,  Esq. 
Jonathan  T.  Apthorp,  Esq. 
George  Henry  Apthorp,  Esq. 
Thomas  Bartlett,  Esq. 
George  Bates,  Esq. 
Reverend  Alfred  L.  Baury, 
Hon.  William  Baylies, 
James  Bird,  Jr.  Esq. 
Abijah  Bigelow,  Esq. 
George  Blake,  Esq. 
William  H.  Boardman,  Esq. 
Charles  Bradbury,  Esq. 
Alden  Bradford,  Esq. 


Places.  Copies. 

Quincy. 

Taunton. 

Boston. 

Philadelphia.  2 

Quincy.  2 

Boston.  2 

Quincy.  2 

Dorchester. 

Boston. 

Quincy. 

Taunton. 

Boston. 

Dorchester. 

Boston. 

Dorchester. 

Taunton. 

Taunton. 

Portland.  2 


Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Quincy. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Newton.  2 

W.  Bridgewater. 

Charlestown. 

Worcester. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 


293 


Names. 

Hon.  Peter  C.  Brooks, 
Edward  Brooks,  Esq. 
Benjamin  Bussey,  Esq. 
J.  Bellows,  Fsq. 
John  Callender,  Esq. 
Matthew  Carey,  Esq. 
Carey  &  Lea, 

Right  Rev.  Bishop  Cheverus, 
Josiah  P.  Cooke,  Esq. 
Joseph  Coolidge,  Esq. 
Thomas  B.  Coolidge,  Esq. 
Cornelius  Coolidge,  Esq. 
Allen  Crocker,  Esq. 
David  Crocker,  Esq. 
Hon.  John  Davis, 
William  Davis,  Esq. 
Samuel  Davis,  Esq. 
Isaac  P.  Davis,  Esq. 
John  B.  Davis,  Esq. 
John  Davis,  Esq. 
William  Dehon,  Esq. 
Edmund  Dwight,  Esq. 
Hon.  Thomas  Dawes, 
William  H.  Eliot,  Esq. 
Rev.  Dr.  James  Freeman, 
Robert  Freeman,  jr.  Esq. 
Russell  Freeman,  Esq. 
John  Fox,  Esq. 
Rev.  Dr.  J.  S.  J.  Gardiner, 
Luther  Gay,  Esq. 
Elbridge  Gerry,  Esq. 
Hon.  Christopher  Gore, 
Benjamin  Guild,  Esq. 
Joseph  Hall,  Esq. 
Ralph  Haskins,  Esq. 
John  Head,  jr.  Esq. 
Barnabas  Hedge,  Esq. 


Places.  Copies. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Roxbury.  2 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Philadelphia.          6 

Philadelphia.         12 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston.  4 

Boston. 

Dorchester. 

Boston. 

Barnstable. 

Boston. 

Plymouth. 

Plymouth. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Barnstable. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Sandwich. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Cambridge. 

Boston. 

Waltham. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Plymouth; 


294 


Names. 

Henry  Higginson,  Esq. 
Benjamin  P.  Homer,  Esq. 
John  Hubbard,  Esq. 
Hon.  Jonathan  Hunnewell, 
Patrick  T.  Jackson,  Esq. 
William  Jackson,  Esq. 
Thomas  Jackson,  Esq. 
William  Jackson,  jr.  Esq. 
Hon.  John  Coffin  Jones, 
Thomas  K.  Jones,  Esq. 
Edward  Jones,  Esq. 
Hon.  James  Lloyd, 
Abbott  Lawrence,  Esq. 
Edward  Q,.  Lowell, 
Dr.  James  Mann, 
Hon.  Jonathan  Mason, 
William  P.  Mason,  Esq. 
Nymphas  Marston,  Esq. 
William  Minot,  Esq. 
Hon.  Harrison  G.  Otis, 
Samuel  Parkman,  Esq. 
Samuel  Parkman,  jr.  Esq. 
Daniel  Parkman,  Esq. 
D.  Parker,  jr.  Esq. 
Nehemiah  Parsons,  Esq. 
William  Payne,  Esq. 
Hon.  Thomas  H.  Perkins, 
Thomas  Perkins,  Esq. 
Thomas  H.  Perkins,  jr.  Esq. 
John  Phelps,  Esq. 
John  Pickering,  L.L.D. 
Hon.  Josiah  Quincy, 
Hon.  Thomas  Rotch, 
Hon.  Benjamin  Russell, 
William  Sawyer,  Esq. 
Hon.  Lemuel  Shaw, 
R.  G.  Shaw,  Esq. 


Places. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Plymouth. 

Plymouth. 

Plymouth. 

Boston. 

Roxbury. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Barnstable. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Barnstable. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Guildford,  Vt. 

Salem. 

Boston. 

New  Bedford. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 


Copies 


295 


Names. 

Edward  Q.  Sewall,  Esq. 
William  Skinner,  Esq. 
N.  G.  Snelling,  Esq. 
Samuel  Snelling,  Esq. 
Hon.  Lewis  Strong, 
Hon.  Russell  Sturgis, 
Hon.  William  Sullivan, 
Gen.  William  H.  Summer, 
Charles  P.  Sumner,  Esq. 
Samuel  Swett,  Esq. 
J.  H.  Swett,  Esq. 
William  Shimmin,  Esq. 
Charles  Taylor,  Esq. 
Rev.  William  Taylor, 
Dr.  James  Thatcher, 
Hon.  Levi  Thaxter, 
Isaiah  Thomas,  Esq. 
John  B.  Thomas,  Esq. 
John  Thomas,  Esq. 
Israel  Thorndike,  jr.  Esq. 
Hon.  Joseph  Tilden, 
Alexander  Townsend  Esq. 
G.  Tuckerman,  Esq. 
Henry  Warren,  Esq. 
Thomas  Welsh,  jr.  Esq. 
James  White,  Esq. 
John  D.  Williams,  Esq. 
HOD.  Thomas  L.  Winthrop, 


Places.  Copies. 

Barnstable. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Northampton. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Plymouth. 

Watertown. 

Worcester. 

Plymouth. 

Plymouth. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Plymouth. 

Boston. 

Dorchester.  4 

Boston. 

Boston. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

•  This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only: 

TeL  No.  642-3405 

Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

BEC'DLD  NOV1  272  -10 


REC'D  CIRC  DEPT 

-  "    - 

I  9  1981 


MAY    * 


id  rM 


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MAY  28 1991 


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